Lucy came running full tilt downstairs, having just nipped in to the drawing-room to smooth a cover, to straighten a chair, to pause a moment and feel whoever came in must think how clean, how bright, how beautifully cared for, when they saw the beautiful silver, the brass fire-irons, the new chair-covers, and the curtains of yellow chintz: she appraised each; heard a roar of voices; people already coming up from dinner; she must fly!
露西全速冲下楼梯，她刚刚还飞奔着冲进客厅抻平椅套，摆正一把椅子，停顿片刻，觉得无论是谁进来都会赞叹这里多么干净，多么明亮，收拾得多么漂亮，因为他们会看见那些美丽的银器，黄铜的火炉，崭新的椅套，黄色的印花布窗帘。当她查看每一件东西时，突然听见一阵鼎沸的人声，用完晚餐的客人们已经上楼来啦，她必须开溜啦！
The Prime Minister was coming, Agnes said: so she had heard them say in the dining-room, she said, coming in with a tray of glasses. Did it matter, did it matter in the least, one Prime Minister more or less? It made no difference at this hour of the night to Mrs. Walker among the plates, saucepans, cullenders, frying-pans, chicken in aspic, ice-cream freezers, pared crusts of bread, lemons, soup tureens, and pudding basins which, however hard they washed up in the scullery seemed to be all on top of her, on the kitchen table, on chairs, while the fire blared and roared, the electric lights glared, and still supper had to be laid. All she felt was, one Prime Minister more or less made not a scrap of difference to Mrs. Walker.
首相大人要来了，艾格尼丝说。她听见人们在餐厅里这么说来着，她说，一边拿着一只摆满酒杯的托盘走了进来。有什么关系吗，多一个少一个首相，又有什么关系呢？在晚上的这个时候，对于置身在盘子、炖锅、滤锅、煎锅、鸡肉冻、冰淇淋机、切下来的面包皮、柠檬、大汤盆、布丁盆之间的沃尔克太太来说，真的是没什么关系。无论人们在洗涤房里如何卖力地洗碗刷碟，这些东西似乎依旧堆叠在她的头顶，堆叠在厨房的桌子椅子上，熊熊的炉火哔剥作响，电灯亮得眩目，还必须准备夜宵呢。此时，沃尔克太太全部的感受就是，多一个少一个首相对她来说，真的是一丁点关系都没有。
It was borne through the kitchen. Over her shoulder Lucy reported how Miss Elizabeth looked quite lovely; she couldn’t take her eyes off her; in her pink dress, wearing the necklace Mr. Dalloway had given her. Jenny must remember the dog, Miss Elizabeth’s fox- terrier, which, since it bit, had to be shut up and might, Elizabeth thought, want something. Jenny must remember the dog. But Jenny was not going upstairs with all those people about. There was a motor at the door already! There was a ring at the bell — and the gentlemen still in the dining-room, drinking tokay!
葡萄酒从厨房端了出去。露西回过头去汇报说，伊丽莎白小姐看上去多可爱呀，穿着粉色的裙子，戴着达洛维先生给她的项链，使自己忍不住一个劲地盯着她瞧。不过，詹妮一定要记得那条狗，伊丽莎白的那条猎狐犬，因为它咬人，不得不关了禁闭，伊丽莎白想道，也许它需要点吃的。詹妮一定要记得照料那条狗哟。然而，詹妮是不会和那些四处转悠的人们一起上楼来的。门口已经停了辆汽车！门铃响了起来——先生们还待在餐厅里，喝着芳香葡萄酒呢！
The ladies were going upstairs already, said Lucy; the ladies were going up, one by one, Mrs. Dalloway walking last and almost always sending back some message to the kitchen, “My love to Mrs. Walker,” that was it one night. Next morning they would go over the dishes — the soup, the salmon; the salmon, Mrs. Walker knew, as usual underdone, for she always got nervous about the pudding and left it to Jenny; so it happened, the salmon was always underdone. But some lady with fair hair and silver ornaments had said, Lucy said, about the entrée, was it really made at home? But it was the salmon that bothered Mrs. Walker, as she spun the plates round and round, and pulled in dampers and pulled out dampers; and there came a burst of laughter from the dining-room; a voice speaking; then another burst of laughter — the gentlemen enjoying themselves when the ladies had gone. The tokay, said Lucy running in. Mr. Dalloway had sent for the tokay, from the Emperor’s cellars, the Imperial Tokay.
女士们正在上楼来，露西说。女士们上来了，一个接一个，达洛维夫人走在最后头，几乎一直在往厨房间里传话，“向沃尔克太太表达我的谢意。”整晚上就这么一句话。等到第二天早上，她们会一起回味昨晚的菜肴——汤，三文鱼，等等。三文鱼，沃尔克太太知道，肯定像往常一样，是半生不熟的，因为她老是担心布丁，就把三文鱼交给詹妮处理了，所以结果就是这样，三文鱼总是烧得半生不熟的。不过，有位金头发、银首饰的女士还问了，露西说，那道正菜间的小菜，真的是自家做的吗？可是，三文鱼的问题依旧令沃尔克太太苦恼，她手里拿着盘子不停地转着擦洗，把风门一会儿关上一会儿打开。从餐厅那里传来一阵大笑，一个说话的声音，然后又是一阵大笑——女士们退场后，先生们开始自娱自乐啦。芳香葡萄酒，露西跑进来说，达洛维先生派人去拿芳香葡萄酒了，是帝王酒窖的皇家葡萄酒呢。
There, they were going upstairs; that was the first to come, and now they would come faster and faster, so that Mrs. Parkinson (hired for parties) would leave the hall door ajar, and the hall would be full of gentlemen waiting (they stood waiting, sleeking down their hair) while the ladies took their cloaks off in the room along the passage; where Mrs. Barnet helped them, old Ellen Barnet, who had been with the family for forty years, and came every summer to help the ladies, and remembered mothers when they were girls, and though very unassuming did shake hands; said “milady” very respectfully, yet had a humorous way with her, looking at the young ladies, and ever so tactfully helping Lady Lovejoy, who had some trouble with her underbodice. And they could not help feeling, Lady Lovejoy and Miss Alice, that some little privilege in the matter of brush and comb, was awarded them having known Mrs. Barnet –“thirty years, milady,” Mrs. Barnet supplied her. Young ladies did not use to rouge, said Lady Lovejoy, when they stayed at Bourton in the old days. And Miss Alice didn’t need rouge, said Mrs. Barnet, looking at her fondly. There Mrs. Barnet would sit, in the cloakroom, patting down the furs, smoothing out the Spanish shawls, tidying the dressing-table, and knowing perfectly well, in spite of the furs and the embroideries, which were nice ladies, which were not. The dear old body, said Lady Lovejoy, mounting the stairs, Clarissa’s old nurse.
那儿，先生们上楼来了，那是第一批上来的，此时他们走得越来越快了，以至于帕金森太太（她是雇来帮忙开派对的）只得把大厅的门敞开着，大厅里满是等待着的先生们（他们站在那里等，把头发打理得光滑平整），而女士们则在靠走廊的衣帽间里脱下披风，巴内特太太在给她们做帮手，老艾伦·巴内特，她已经在达洛维家服侍了四十年，每个夏天都来做女士们的帮手，她还记得那些母亲们少女时的模样呢。尽管如此，她依旧非常谦逊地与大家握手，满含敬意地称她们为“我的夫人”，但她对待年轻小姐时却有一种幽默的风度，但凡洛夫乔伊女士的紧身束腰起了什么麻烦，巴内特太太总是能手脚麻利地替她解围。所以，她们忍不住会这么觉得，洛夫乔伊女士和艾丽丝小姐，由于已经认识巴内特太太——“三十年了，我的太太，”巴内特太太提醒说，所以她们在梳妆打扮上就能得到优先照顾。想当年，在她们过去住在伯尔顿的时候，年轻小姐们是不需要什么胭脂口红的，洛夫乔伊女士说。艾丽丝小姐不必涂胭脂口红了，巴内特太太说，一边怜爱地看着她。巴内特太太就坐在那儿，坐在衣帽间里，抚平毛皮大衣，折好西班牙披肩，把梳妆台整理干净，尽管她们都穿着毛皮大衣和绣花服装，但她心里还是很清楚，她们中谁是良家妇女，谁不是。亲爱的老婆婆，洛夫乔伊女士说道，一面爬着楼梯，是克拉丽莎的老保姆呢。
Oh dear, it was going to be a failure; a complete failure, Clarissa felt it in her bones as dear old Lord Lexham stood there apologising for his wife who had caught cold at the Buckingham Palace garden party. She could see Peter out of the tail of her eye, criticising her, there, in that corner. Why, after all, did she do these things? Why seek pinnacles and stand drenched in fire? Might it consume her anyhow! Burn her to cinders! Better anything, better brandish one’s torch and hurl it to earth than taper and dwindle away like some Ellie Henderson! It was extraordinary how Peter put her into these states just by coming and standing in a corner. He made her see herself; exaggerate. It was idiotic. But why did he come, then, merely to criticise? Why always take, never give? Why not risk one’s one little point of view? There he was wandering off, and she must speak to him. But she would not get the chance. Life was that — humiliation, renunciation. What Lord Lexham was saying was that his wife would not wear her furs at the garden party because “my dear, you ladies are all alike”– Lady Lexham being seventy-five at least! It was delicious, how they petted each other, that old couple. She did like old Lord Lexham. She did think it mattered, her party, and it made her feel quite sick to know that it was all going wrong, all falling flat. Anything, any explosion, any horror was better than people wandering aimlessly, standing in a bunch at a corner like Ellie Henderson, not even caring to hold themselves upright.
哦，老天，这场派对肯定会失败的，彻底地失败，当莱克斯汉姆老勋爵站在她面前，为妻子在白金汉宫的花园会上着凉了一事道歉时，克拉丽莎打骨子里这么感觉。她用眼角的余光扫到了彼德，看见他站在一个角落里，露出了批评的神色。究竟是为了什么，她要举办这场派对呢？为什么不惜身陷火海也要去追求巅峰呢？反正，让火焰把她吞噬掉好了！把她烧成灰烬！什么都好，就是挥舞起火把再将它扔到地上，也总比像埃莉·亨德森那样浑浑噩噩、渐渐凋零要好呀！彼德真是太了不起了，他只要到这里来一下，只要在角落里站一下，就能把她抛入这样的精神状态。他使她看清了自己：夸夸其谈、俗不可耐。可他为什么要来呢，只是为了来批评她的吗？他为什么只知道夺取，从不付出呢？为什么不冒险试一试讲明自己的小小观点呢？他好像要开溜的样子，她必须去和他说说话。可她找不到机会。生活就是那样的——羞辱、隐忍。莱克斯汉姆勋爵解释说，他妻子从来不会穿着毛皮大衣去参加花园会的，因为“亲爱的，你们这些女士都这样”——莱克斯汉姆太太至少也有七十五岁了！多妙呀，他们依旧这般恩爱，这对老夫妻。她确实喜欢莱克斯汉姆老勋爵。她确实认为她的派对很重要，所以觉察到一切都不对头，一切都陷入了平庸无聊，心里觉得很难受。无论发生什么事，爆炸也好，恐怖也好，都比人们在那里无目的地荡来荡去强，都比一帮子人懒懒地站在角落里，像埃莉·亨德森那样，甚至连自己的站相都不在乎要强。
“How delightful to see you!” said Clarissa. She said it to every one. How delightful to see you! She was at her worst — effusive, insincere. It was a great mistake to have come. He should have stayed at home and read his book, thought Peter Walsh; should have gone to a music hall; he should have stayed at home, for he knew no one.
“见到您多高兴啊！”克拉丽莎说。她对谁都这么说。见到您多高兴啊！这是她最糟糕的表演——夸张、虚伪。来参加派对真是犯了个大错。还不如待在家里看看书呢，彼德·沃尔什想，应该去音乐厅的，或者待在家里的，因为这里他谁都不认识。
And then Lady Lovejoy stiffened. “Lady and Miss Lovejoy,” she said to Mr. Wilkins (hired for parties). He had an admirable manner, as he bent and straightened himself, bent and straightened himself and announced with perfect impartiality “Lady and Miss Lovejoy… Sir John and Lady Needham… Miss Weld… Mr. Walsh.” His manner was admirable; his family life must be irreproachable, except that it seemed impossible that a being with greenish lips and shaven cheeks could ever have blundered into the nuisance of children.
接着，洛夫乔伊女士挺直了身躯。“洛夫乔伊夫人与小姐。”她对威尔金斯先生（他也是雇来在派对上帮忙的）说。威尔金斯先生的举止风度翩翩，你看他微微躬身再挺直，微微躬身再挺直起来，以不偏不倚的口吻通报说：“洛夫乔伊夫人与小姐…约翰爵士与尼达姆夫人…韦尔德小姐…沃尔什先生。”他的态度真好得没话说了，他的家庭生活也一定幸福美满。不过，只是很难想象这样一个嘴唇发青、下巴剃得干干净净的男人会鲁莽地陷进生儿育女这种麻烦事里去。
Gently the yellow curtain with all the birds of Paradise blew out and it seemed as if there were a flight of wings into the room, right out, then sucked back. (For the windows were open.) Was it draughty, Ellie Henderson wondered? She was subject to chills. But it did not matter that she should come down sneezing to-morrow; it was the girls with their naked shoulders she thought of, being trained to think of others by an old father, an invalid, late vicar of Bourton, but he was dead now; and her chills never went to her chest, never. It was the girls she thought of, the young girls with their bare shoulders, she herself having always been a wisp of a creature, with her thin hair and meagre profile; though now, past fifty, there was beginning to shine through some mild beam, something purified into distinction by years of self-abnegation but obscured again, perpetually, by her distressing gentility, her panic fear, which arose from three hundred pounds’ income, and her weaponless state (she could not earn a penny) and it made her timid, and more and more disqualified year by year to meet well- dressed people who did this sort of thing every night of the season, merely telling their maids “I’ll wear so and so,” whereas Ellie Henderson ran out nervously and bought cheap pink flowers, half a dozen, and then threw a shawl over her old black dress. For her invitation to Clarissa’s party had come at the last moment. She was not quite happy about it. She had a sort of feeling that Clarissa had not meant to ask her this year.
黄色窗帘及上面的每一只天堂鸟，都在温柔地舞动，感觉就像无数双翅膀飞进了房间，又立即飞了出去，最后又被吸了回来（因为窗户开着）。是穿堂风吗？埃莉·亨德森心想。她特别容易着凉。但即使她明天生病打喷嚏也没关系的，她担心的是那些裸露着肩膀的姑娘们，她的老父亲一向教导她要多为他人着想，她父亲是伯尔顿教区的前牧师长，身体一直不太好，如今已经去世。她的感冒从来也没有殃及肺部，一次也没有。她担心的是，那些裸着肩膀的姑娘们，而她本人一向是个弱不禁风的人，头发稀疏，身材瘦小。尽管如今她已五十出头，却有一道柔和的光芒开始从她的身上闪耀出来，它是多年来的克己为人净化出的一种卓越品质。但这样的光芒又会再次坠入混沌，永远的混沌，那是由于她那令人难受的繁文缛节，她那不知所措的恐惧感，那来自于她三百英镑的年收入，和她那无依无靠的处境（她连一个便士都挣不到），那造成了她的胆怯，年复一年地，她变得越来越不够格和那些衣着考究的贵人们共处一室。在这个季节的每一天晚上，那些贵人们都要忙于赴宴，她们只要吩咐仆人们“我要穿这件那件”就可以了，而埃莉·亨德森却要紧张兮兮地跑出去，买廉价的粉红花，买上半打，然后在她那条黑色的旧裙子上罩上条披巾。由于克拉丽莎是在最后一刻才给她发派对邀请函的，因此她觉得不太高兴。她有这么一种感觉，克拉丽莎今年本不打算邀请她的。
So, with her weak eyesight, Ellie Henderson craned rather forward, and it wasn’t so much she who minded not having any one to talk to (she hardly knew anybody there), for she felt that they were all such interesting people to watch; politicians presumably; Richard Dalloway’s friends; but it was Richard himself who felt that he could not let the poor creature go on standing there all the evening by herself.
于是，近视的埃莉·亨德森拼命往前伸着脖子，她并不十分在乎没有人和她交谈（这里的人她几乎一个都不认识），因为她觉得光是打量这些人就是件很有趣的事。想必是些政客吧，都是理查德·达洛维的朋友们。但理查德本人却觉得，不该让这个可怜人整个晚上都独自站在那儿。
Why should she? There was no reason really, except that they had always known each other. Indeed, they were cousins. But naturally they had rather drifted apart, Clarissa being so sought after. It was an event to her, going to a party. It was quite a treat just to see the lovely clothes. Wasn’t that Elizabeth, grown up, with her hair done in the fashionable way, in the pink dress? Yet she could not be more than seventeen. She was very, very handsome. But girls when they first came out didn’t seem to wear white as they used. (She must remember everything to tell Edith.) Girls wore straight frocks, perfectly tight, with skirts well above the ankles. It was not becoming, she thought.
克拉丽莎干吗一定要请她呢？真的没什么理由，她们不过是老相识罢了。实际上，她们是表姐妹。但由于克拉丽莎向来是个炙手可热的人物，她们也就自然而然地疏远了。不管怎么说，参加派对对她来说都是一件大事。只要看看那些可爱的服装，就能大饱眼福啊。那不是伊丽莎白吗，都长这么大了，梳着流行的发型，穿着粉红的裙子。不过，她顶多也就十七岁。她非常非常漂亮。但如今的女孩子初入社交界，已经不像以前那样穿白衣裙了（她要记住这里的一切，好回去告诉伊迪丝）。姑娘们穿直筒上衣，非常紧身，裙子的长度才到脚踝之上。太不得体了，她觉得。
“Yes, they do,” said Richard Dalloway. “Yes.”
“是啊，是这样的，”理查德·达洛维说，“确实是的。”
But what more did one say?
可是还能说些什么呢？
“Well, Ellie, and how’s the world treating YOU?” he said in his genial way, and Ellie Henderson, getting nervous and flushing and feeling that it was extraordinarily nice of him to come and talk to her, said that many people really felt the heat more than the cold.
“喂，埃莉，你日子过得如何呀？”他以亲热的口吻说道，而埃莉·亨德森，紧张得脸都红了，心里觉得他实在是个大好人，能走过来和自己搭话，她慌乱地说什么有许多人其实不怕冷，倒是更怕热呢。
“Hullo, Richard,” said somebody, taking him by the elbow, and, good Lord, there was old Peter, old Peter Walsh. He was delighted to see him — ever so pleased to see him! He hadn’t changed a bit. And off they went together walking right across the room, giving each other little pats, as if they hadn’t met for a long time, Ellie Henderson thought, watching them go, certain she knew that man’s face. A tall man, middle aged, rather fine eyes, dark, wearing spectacles, with a look of John Burrows. Edith would be sure to know.
“你好，理查德。”有个人说着，抓住了他的手肘，哦，天哪，是老伙计彼德，老伙计彼德·沃尔什。理查德看见他很高兴——看见他多高兴呀！他一点都没变。他们俩一起穿过房间走掉了，还互相轻轻拍着肩膀，就好像他们是久别重逢一般，埃莉·亨德森看着他们走开去，心里想，她一定见过这人的脸。一个高个子，中年人，眼睛很漂亮，黑黑的，还戴副眼镜，神情很像约翰·巴罗斯。伊迪丝肯定知道这人是谁的。
The curtain with its flight of birds of Paradise blew out again. And Clarissa saw — she saw Ralph Lyon beat it back, and go on talking. So it wasn’t a failure after all! it was going to be all right now — her party. It had begun. It had started. But it was still touch and go. She must stand there for the present. People seemed to come in a rush.
窗帘和天堂鸟又飘拂了起来。克拉丽莎看见——看见拉尔夫·莱昂把它拽了回去，接着又和人攀谈起来。看来，派对毕竟没有搞砸啊！现在开始走上正轨了——她的派对。开始了，已经开始走上正轨了，但还是危机四伏的。她目前必须站在这儿。好像有一大帮人哄过来了。
And yet for her own part, it was too much of an effort. She was not enjoying it. It was too much like being — just anybody, standing there; anybody could do it; yet this anybody she did a little admire, couldn’t help feeling that she had, anyhow, made this happen, that it marked a stage, this post that she felt herself to have become, for oddly enough she had quite forgotten what she looked like, but felt herself a stake driven in at the top of her stairs. Every time she gave a party she had this feeling of being something not herself, and that every one was unreal in one way; much more real in another. It was, she thought, partly their clothes, partly being taken out of their ordinary ways, partly the background, it was possible to say things you couldn’t say anyhow else, things that needed an effort; possible to go much deeper. But not for her; not yet anyhow.
然而，对她自己来说，这一切实在太费劲了。她没有享受到办派对的乐趣。她太像一个——像随便哪个人，站在这儿，这有什么难的，谁都会呀。然而，她对这个缺乏难度的角色，还确实感到了一点得意，她忍不住这样觉得，无论如何，这一切是由她安排的，它标志着派对的一个程序，她感觉自己也能胜任这样的职责。但奇怪的是，她几乎已经记不得自己的长相，只觉得自己成了打进楼梯顶上的一根木桩。她每次办派对都会有这样的感觉，感觉自己已经不是自己，而是成为了某件东西，同时又感觉，每个人都在某个方面呈现出不真实的一面，而在别的方面则又显得更为真实。她想，这部分是因为客人们的正装，部分是因为人们脱离了普通的行为方式，部分是因为这特殊的背景，在这样的场合你能说出在平时说不出来的话，或者是说起来很费劲的那种话，但有可能会和别人进行深入交流。但她不能深谈，至少眼下没那工夫。
Colonel and Mrs. Garrod… Mr. Hugh Whitbread… Mr. Bowley… Mrs. Hilbery… Lady Mary Maddox… Mr. Quin… intoned Wilkin. She had six or seven words with each, and they went on, they went into the rooms; into something now, not nothing, since Ralph Lyon had beat back the curtain.
戛洛德上校和太太…休·惠特布莱德先生…鲍利先生…希尔伯里太太…玛丽·马多克斯女士…奎因先生…威尔金拿腔作调地通报说。她和每个客人都寒暄两句，然后看着他们继续往里进，走进房间。进去就有事做了，不会无所事事的，横竖拉尔夫·莱昂已经把窗帘搞定了。
And what was so odd about it was the sense one had as they came up the stairs one after another, Mrs. Mount and Celia, Herbert Ainsty, Mrs. Dakers — oh and Lady Bruton!
看着人们一个接一个往楼上爬，你会产生一种多么奇怪的感觉啊，芒特太太和西莉亚，赫伯特·安斯蒂，戴克斯太太——哦，还有布鲁顿女士！
WHAT name? Lady Rosseter? But who on earth was Lady Rosseter?
她叫什么来着？罗塞特女士吗？但这个罗塞特女士究竟是谁呢？
“How delightful to see you!” she said. Dear old Sir Harry! He would know every one.
“看见你多高兴啊！”她说。亲爱的老哈利爵士！他会结识在场的每一个人的。
“How awfully good of you to come!” she said, and she meant it — it was odd how standing there one felt them going on, going on, some quite old, some…
“您能来真是太好了！”她说，她是真心这么觉得——站在这儿看着人们一个个从你身边走过去，这感觉多奇怪啊，一个个走过去了，有的老迈年高，有的…
All on top of each other, embarrassed, laughing, words tumbled out — passing through London; heard from Clara Haydon; what a chance of seeing you! So I thrust myself in — without an invitation…
有点尴尬地，嬉皮笑脸地，一句接着一句的话语，滚滚而出——萨利说她刚巧经过伦敦，从克拉拉·海顿那里听说了这回事，心想这是多好的一次见面机会呀！所以我就这么硬闯进来了——也没有邀请函…
“Clarissa!” That voice! It was Sally Seton! Sally Seton! after all these years! She loomed through a mist. For she hadn’t looked like THAT, Sally Seton, when Clarissa grasped the hot water can, to think of her under this roof, under this roof! Not like that!
“克拉丽莎！”听那声音！是萨利·西顿呀！原来是萨利·西顿！经过了这么多年！她穿过一团迷雾来到了。她以前可不是这个模样，这个萨利·西顿，克拉丽莎不禁想起从前，那时自己手里还紧紧地抱着热水罐，心里琢磨着她怎么会撞到自己家里来的，怎么会撞到自己家里来的！那时的她可不是这般模样！
One might put down the hot water can quite composedly. The lustre had gone out of her. Yet it was extraordinary to see her again, older, happier, less lovely. They kissed each other, first this cheek then that, by the drawing-room door, and Clarissa turned, with Sally’s hand in hers, and saw her rooms full, heard the roar of voices, saw the candlesticks, the blowing curtains, and the roses which Richard had given her.
现在，克拉丽莎可以从从容容地把那只热水罐放下了，因为萨利已经失去了当年的风采。然而，能再次见到她毕竟是件奇事，她老了，比以前更快乐了，没以前那么可爱了。她们在客厅的门边亲吻，先亲这边脸蛋，再亲另一边。克拉丽莎转身，握着萨利的手，看见了整个房间，听见了一片喧哗，看见了烛台，看见了飘拂着的窗帘，还有理查德献给她的玫瑰。
She had the simplest egotism, the most open desire to be thought first always, and Clarissa loved her for being still like that. “I can’t believe it!” she cried, kindling all over with pleasure at the thought of the past.
她是那种最单纯的、以自我为中心的人，她的想法毫不隐晦，就是希望人们总能在第一时间想到她，克拉丽莎爱她，因为她依旧是这个样子。“我简直难以置信！”克拉丽莎大呼小叫着，回想起过去的一幕幕，浑身焕发出快乐的光芒。
“I have five enormous boys,” said Sally.
“我有了五个大胖小子。”萨利说。
But alas, Wilkins; Wilkins wanted her; Wilkins was emitting in a voice of commanding authority as if the whole company must be admonished and the hostess reclaimed from frivolity, one name:
可是，哎呀，威尔金斯，他需要她呢。威尔金斯正在用一种发号施令般的权威口气通报着——就好像他必须警告在场的所有人，必须把女主人从无关紧要的交谈中拖出来——一个名字：
“The Prime Minister,” said Peter Walsh.
“首相大人。”彼德·沃尔什说。
The Prime Minister? Was it really? Ellie Henderson marvelled. What a thing to tell Edith!
首相大人？是真的吗？埃莉·亨德森诧异不已。这事一定要讲给伊迪丝听！
One couldn’t laugh at him. He looked so ordinary. You might have stood him behind a counter and bought biscuits — poor chap, all rigged up in gold lace. And to be fair, as he went his rounds, first with Clarissa then with Richard escorting him, he did it very well. He tried to look somebody. It was amusing to watch. Nobody looked at him. They just went on talking, yet it was perfectly plain that they all knew, felt to the marrow of their bones, this majesty passing; this symbol of what they all stood for, English society. Old Lady Bruton, and she looked very fine too, very stalwart in her lace, swam up, and they withdrew into a little room which at once became spied upon, guarded, and a sort of stir and rustle rippled through every one, openly: the Prime Minister!
你可不能嘲笑他，尽管他看上去很普通。你可以把他想象成一个站柜台的角色，而你正从他手里买饼干呢——一个可怜的家伙，浑身装点着金色的缎带。说句公道话，在他和大家打招呼时，先是由克拉丽莎陪着，后来是理查德，他的举止简直无懈可击。他努力摆出一副贵宾的样子，看他那样实在很有意思。没人盯着他看。大家自顾自地继续闲聊，但显然心里都明白，或者说从骨髓里都感觉得到，这个最高权威正从自己身边经过，他是大家伙所代表的——英国社会——的象征。老布鲁顿女士，她看上去也很精神，穿着花边的华服，显得气宇轩昂，她巍然而至。他们俩退进了一个小房间，门外立刻遭到了人们的窥视，还有人守卫在那里，一阵激动的喧嚣传染了在场的每一个人，这是再明显也没有的事了：首相大人在此！
He looked always as if he were on duty, thought Peter, a privileged, but secretive being, hoarding secrets which he would die to defend, though it was only some little piece of tittle- tattle dropped by a court footman, which would be in all the papers tomorrow. Such were his rattles, his baubles, in playing with which he had grown white, come to the verge of old age, enjoying the respect and affection of all who had the privilege of knowing this type of the English public school man. Inevitably one made up things like that about Hugh; that was his style; the style of those admirable letters which Peter had read thousands of miles across the sea in the Times, and had thanked God he was out of that pernicious hubble-bubble if it were only to hear baboons chatter and coolies beat their wives. An olive-skinned youth from one of the Universities stood obsequiously by. Him he would patronise, initiate, teach how to get on. For he liked nothing better than doing kindnesses, making the hearts of old ladies palpitate with the joy of being thought of in their age, their affliction, thinking themselves quite forgotten, yet here was dear Hugh driving up and spending an hour talking of the past, remembering trifles, praising the home-made cake, though Hugh might eat cake with a Duchess any day of his life, and, to look at him, probably did spend a good deal of time in that agreeable occupation. The All- judging, the All-merciful, might excuse. Peter Walsh had no mercy. Villains there must be, and God knows the rascals who get hanged for battering the brains of a girl out in a train do less harm on the whole than Hugh Whitbread and his kindness. Look at him now, on tiptoe, dancing forward, bowing and scraping, as the Prime Minister and Lady Bruton emerged, intimating for all the world to see that he was privileged to say something, something private, to Lady Bruton as she passed. She stopped. She wagged her fine old head. She was thanking him presumably for some piece of servility. She had her toadies, minor officials in Government offices who ran about putting through little jobs on her behalf, in return for which she gave them luncheon. But she derived from the eighteenth century. She was all right.
他看上去总像是在值班似的，彼德想，一个特权阶层，但又是一个神神秘秘的家伙，仿佛在保守着什么他宁死也不会透露的秘密，尽管这些秘密不过是宫廷仆役们偶尔泄露出来的一点闲言碎语罢了，到了第二天都会见诸各大报刊的。这些就是他的小玩具，他的小摆设，他在玩弄它们的过程中渐渐花白了发丝，渐渐步入了老年的行列，他享受着人们的尊敬与爱戴，因为大家有幸结识了这位出身于英国公立学校的特权人士。对于休，人们总不可避免地会编造出诸如此类的轶事，那是因为他的风格，那就是彼德在几千英里之外的海外，从《泰晤士报》上读到的他那些绝妙书信的风格。感谢上帝，让彼德得以远离这些恶劣的喧嚣，尽管代价就是，从此只能够听见狒狒的支支吾吾和苦力痛打老婆的声音。此时，一个橄榄色皮肤的大学生讨好地站在休的身旁。休会扶持他、启发他，教他该如何起步。因为他最喜欢助人为乐了，他会让那些老妇人的心快乐地悸动起来，虽然她们觉得自己年事已高，觉得苦恼不断，觉得自己被别人遗忘了。然而还有亲爱的休，他会开车过来陪她们聊上个把小时，聊聊过去，回忆回忆往日的琐事，赞美一番她们自家做的蛋糕，尽管休一辈子里不论哪一天都能找到一位公爵夫人一起吃蛋糕的。而且，你看看他，他也许真的在这份愉快的差事里消磨了不少时间呢。审判一切、宽恕一切的上帝啊，您也许会原谅他吧。但彼德·沃尔什可没什么宽容心。这个世界上一定有恶棍存在，可上帝知道，从总体上说，那些在火车上打碎了姑娘的脑壳而被送上绞架的流氓，也不比休·惠特布莱德和他的善行所造成的危害来得大。现在你再瞧瞧他的那副德行，当首相和布鲁顿夫人出现时，他踮起脚尖，快步向前，点头哈腰，向所有的宾客们暗示出，在布鲁顿夫人走过时，他拥有特权可以和她说上几句体己话。布鲁顿夫人停了下来，摇了摇她那颗上了年纪的精致脑袋，想必是在感谢他的某次鞠躬尽瘁的效劳吧。她拥有一批谄媚的拥趸，他们是政府部门里的一些芝麻绿豆官，他们会为她去四处操劳一些琐事，作为报答她会请他们共进午餐。虽然她是一个属于十八世纪的老古董，但她的行为却无可挑剔。
Lord, lord, the snobbery of the English! thought Peter Walsh, standing in the corner. How they loved dressing up in gold lace and doing homage! There! That must be, by Jove it was, Hugh Whitbread, snuffing round the precincts of the great, grown rather fatter, rather whiter, the admirable Hugh!
天哪，天，势利的英国人！彼德·沃尔什站在角落里，心想。他们是多么喜欢用金色饰带把自己装扮好，来向权贵致敬呀！看哪！那一定是，天哪，真的是休·惠特布莱德，围在伟人身边点头哈腰呢。他发福了，头发也斑白了，这个令人赞赏的休！
And now Clarissa escorted her Prime Minister down the room, prancing, sparkling, with the stateliness of her grey hair. She wore ear-rings, and a silver-green mermaid’s dress. Lolloping on the waves and braiding her tresses she seemed, having that gift still; to be; to exist; to sum it all up in the moment as she passed; turned, caught her scarf in some other woman’s dress, unhitched it, laughed, all with the most perfect ease and air of a creature floating in its element. But age had brushed her; even as a mermaid might behold in her glass the setting sun on some very clear evening over the waves. There was a breath of tenderness; her severity, her prudery, her woodenness were all warmed through now, and she had about her as she said good-bye to the thick gold- laced man who was doing his best, and good luck to him, to look important, an inexpressible dignity; an exquisite cordiality; as if she wished the whole world well, and must now, being on the very verge and rim of things, take her leave. So she made him think. (But he was not in love.)
此时，克拉丽莎陪同着首相走过这间房间，她昂首阔步，容光焕发，灰白的头发也透露出一丝威严。她戴着耳环，穿着一条银绿相间的美人鱼式裙子。她仿佛是悠闲地徜徉在波浪之上，梳理着她那披肩长发，依然拥有那份与生俱来的魅力，生活着，存在着，在她走过的瞬间，便对一切都了如指掌。她蓦然转身，原来是披肩勾住了某个女人的裙子，她笑着解开，那举止简直可说是潇洒自如，仿佛是一个在自我的天空中自由飞翔的精灵。可是，岁月已经侵蚀了她，即便是一条美人鱼，也会在某个晴朗的黄昏，从她的镜子里看见海面上的夕阳。她身上有种温柔的气质，而她平素的严厉、拘谨、矜持，此刻都已融化。在她对一位衣服上装饰着繁复的金饰带的男人道别时，此人正在竭尽全力——我们祝他好运吧——摆出一副贵客的模样，她浑身上下显露出一种难以言说的尊严，一种优雅的热诚，仿佛是在祝福整个世界一切顺利，而她本人则处在世界的边缘，此刻必须告退了。她给此人的感觉就是如此（但他并没有爱上她）。
Indeed, Clarissa felt, the Prime Minister had been good to come. And, walking down the room with him, with Sally there and Peter there and Richard very pleased, with all those people rather inclined, perhaps, to envy, she had felt that intoxication of the moment, that dilatation of the nerves of the heart itself till it seemed to quiver, steeped, upright;– yes, but after all it was what other people felt, that; for, though she loved it and felt it tingle and sting, still these semblances, these triumphs (dear old Peter, for example, thinking her so brilliant), had a hollowness; at arm’s length they were, not in the heart; and it might be that she was growing old but they satisfied her no longer as they used; and suddenly, as she saw the Prime Minister go down the stairs, the gilt rim of the Sir Joshua picture of the little girl with a muff brought back Kilman with a rush; Kilman her enemy. That was satisfying; that was real. Ah, how she hated her — hot, hypocritical, corrupt; with all that power; Elizabeth’s seducer; the woman who had crept in to steal and defile (Richard would say, What nonsense!). She hated her: she loved her. It was enemies one wanted, not friends — not Mrs. Durrant and Clara, Sir William and Lady Bradshaw, Miss Truelock and Eleanor Gibson (whom she saw coming upstairs). They must find her if they wanted her. She was for the party!
真的，克拉丽莎觉得，首相能来实在是赏光。而且，陪着他走过这间房间，萨利和彼德也在场，还有高高兴兴的理查德，所有这些人也许都相当羡慕她呢。她感觉到了此刻的陶醉，血管在扩张，直到心脏都似乎颤抖起来，沉醉而又振奋——是的，但那毕竟是别人的感觉，因为，尽管她爱这一切，感觉到了兴奋与刺激，然而这些表面文章，这些成就（譬如，亲爱的老彼德就觉得她很是出色）毕竟是空虚之物，它们和她之间有一臂之隔，她的内心并没有成就感，也许是因为她渐渐老了，这些东西不再像以前那么吸引她了。突然间，当她看着首相走下楼梯时，那幅约书亚爵士所绘的《戴皮手笼的小女孩》的镀金画框使她想起了基尔曼，她的敌人基尔曼。那反而令人满意，因为那是真实的。啊，她有多恨基尔曼呀——泼辣、虚伪、放荡，但又如此精力过人，还居然引诱了伊丽莎白。这个女人偷偷溜进来，偷走、玷污了她的女儿（理查德肯定会说，真是一派胡言）。克拉丽莎恨她，可也爱她。我们需要的是敌人，而不是朋友——不是达伦特太太和克拉拉、威廉爵士和布莱德肖夫人、特鲁洛克小姐和埃莉诺·吉布森（克拉丽莎看见她们正上楼来）。如果她们有需要，就必定会来找她的。她是派对的女当家呀！
There was her old friend Sir Harry.
她的老朋友哈利爵士在那儿呢。
“Dear Sir Harry!” she said, going up to the fine old fellow who had produced more bad pictures than any other two Academicians in the whole of St. John’s Wood (they were always of cattle, standing in sunset pools absorbing moisture, or signifying, for he had a certain range of gesture, by the raising of one foreleg and the toss of the antlers, “the Approach of the Stranger”– all his activities, dining out, racing, were founded on cattle standing absorbing moisture in sunset pools).
“亲爱的哈利爵士！”她说着，走到这个和蔼的老头身旁，他画糟的画要比圣约翰林画院里任意两个画家的失败作品加在一起都多（他的画作上总是有牛，站在日暮的池塘边饮水，或是取抬起一条前肢、牛角上扬的姿态，来代表“有陌生人来到了近旁”，因为他对牛的姿态颇有些研究——他的所有活动，外出吃饭啦，赌赛马啦，都是靠站在日暮的池塘边饮水的牛来得以实现的）。
“What are you laughing at?” she asked him. For Willie Titcomb and Sir Harry and Herbert Ainsty were all laughing. But no. Sir Harry could not tell Clarissa Dalloway (much though he liked her; of her type he thought her perfect, and threatened to paint her) his stories of the music hall stage. He chaffed her about her party. He missed his brandy. These circles, he said, were above him. But he liked her; respected her, in spite of her damnable, difficult upper-class refinement, which made it impossible to ask Clarissa Dalloway to sit on his knee. And up came that wandering will-o’- the-wisp, that vagulous phosphorescence, old Mrs. Hilbery, stretching her hands to the blaze of his laughter (about the Duke and the Lady), which, as she heard it across the room, seemed to reassure her on a point which sometimes bothered her if she woke early in the morning and did not like to call her maid for a cup of tea; how it is certain we must die.
“你们笑什么呀？”她问他。因为威利·蒂特科姆和哈利爵士，还有赫伯特·安斯蒂都在大笑。可是，哈利爵士却说，不能告诉克拉丽莎·达洛维（尽管他非常喜欢她，觉得在她那种类型的人中，她可以说是近乎完美，并扬言要给她画像呢）有关音乐会舞台的事。他拿她的派对来取笑她，打趣说这里没有他想喝的白兰地。这个圈子，他说，高出了我的层次。但他喜欢她，尊敬她，尽管她那该死的、难对付的上流礼节使他无法开口要求她坐到自己的大腿上来。此时，一团飘荡的鬼火，一团模糊的磷光，也就是老希尔伯里太太，迎上前来，在哈利爵士的大笑声（他在笑公爵及夫人）中伸出手来。她刚才在房间的另一头听见这笑声，这使她对某个问题似乎更有了确信，有时她一大早起来，但又不想让女仆准备早茶，这个问题就会来打搅她：我们终有一天会死的，那是多么确凿无疑的事啊。
And really Clarissa’s eyes filled with tears. Her mother, walking in a garden! But alas, she must go.
克拉丽莎的眼睛里真的噙满了泪水。她母亲，在花园里漫步！可是，哎呀，她必须要走了。
“They won’t tell us their stories,” said Clarissa.
“他们不会把他们的趣事告诉我们的。”克拉丽莎说。
“Dear Clarissa!” exclaimed Mrs. Hilbery. She looked to-night, she said, so like her mother as she first saw her walking in a garden in a grey hat.
“亲爱的克拉丽莎！”希尔伯里太太喊道。今晚的你呀，她说，看上去跟我第一次看见你母亲时简直一模一样，当时你母亲正戴着灰帽子在花园里漫步呢。
For there was Professor Brierly, who lectured on Milton, talking to little Jim Hutton (who was unable even for a party like this to compass both tie and waistcoat or make his hair lie flat), and even at this distance they were quarrelling, she could see. For Professor Brierly was a very queer fish. With all those degrees, honours, lectureships between him and the scribblers he suspected instantly an atmosphere not favourable to his queer compound; his prodigious learning and timidity; his wintry charm without cordiality; his innocence blent with snobbery; he quivered if made conscious by a lady’s unkempt hair, a youth’s boots, of an underworld, very creditable doubtless, of rebels, of ardent young people; of would-be geniuses, and intimated with a little toss of the head, with a sniff — Humph!– the value of moderation; of some slight training in the classics in order to appreciate Milton. Professor Brierly (Clarissa could see) wasn’t hitting it off with little Jim Hutton (who wore red socks, his black being at the laundry) about Milton. She interrupted.
因为，布莱尔利教授在那里，他是教弥尔顿[70]的，正在和小吉姆·赫顿说话（即使是参加这么一个派对，他也不会系好领带、穿好西装背心、把头发打理得光滑平整的），即使在离这么远的地方，她也可以看出他们是在吵架，她看得出来的。因为布莱尔利教授是只十足的怪鸟。他拥有那么多的学位、荣誉和讲师资格，所以在他遇见那些三流文人时，会立刻觉得这里的空气对他那古怪的性格不利：学识渊博，性格却腼腆，有种缺乏诚意的、冷峻的魅力，势利而又天真。如果他从一位女士蓬乱的头发或一个青年人的皮靴中意识到底层社会的存在，毫无疑问，这个底层社会是由那些热情的叛逆青年组成的，他就会发抖：这个社会里尽是些认为自己是天才的家伙，对于他们，他只得晃晃脑袋、抽抽鼻子——哼！——谦虚的美德呢，想要欣赏弥尔顿，就需要一点古典文学的熏陶。关于弥尔顿，布莱尔利教授（克拉丽莎看得出来）与小吉姆·赫顿（他穿着双红袜子，因为黑的那双还在洗呢）话不投机半句多。于是，她赶忙插进去干预。【注：[70]弥尔顿（1608~1674）：英国著名诗人，代表作有史诗《失乐园》和《复乐园》等。】
“The sign of a successful party.” Nodding urbanely, the Professor stepped delicately off.
“这是派对成功的标志喔。”教授彬彬有礼地点点头，随即步履轻快地走开了。
“But the noise!” she said. “The noise!”
“可太吵了！”她说，“太吵了！”
She said she loved Bach. So did Hutton. That was the bond between them, and Hutton (a very bad poet) always felt that Mrs. Dalloway was far the best of the great ladies who took an interest in art. It was odd how strict she was. About music she was purely impersonal. She was rather a prig. But how charming to look at! She made her house so nice if it weren’t for her Professors. Clarissa had half a mind to snatch him off and set him down at the piano in the back room. For he played divinely.
她说她爱巴赫的音乐。赫顿也一样。这是他们俩之间的纽带，而赫顿（一个糟糕透顶的诗人）老是觉得达洛维夫人是那些对艺术感兴趣的贵妇人中最了不起的一位。她是那么严肃，多奇怪呀。谈到音乐时，她完全不带个人的感情色彩。她是个相当古板的人。但她的样子又多么迷人呀！她把家里布置得那么好，虽说拿来招待这班教授实在有点浪费。克拉丽莎有点想把他拉走，想让他坐到里间的钢琴前面去。因为他弹出来的简直是仙乐。
“He knows everything in the whole world about Milton,” said Clarissa.
“他知道弥尔顿的一切呢。”克拉丽莎说。
“Does he indeed?” said Hutton, who would imitate the Professor throughout Hampstead; the Professor on Milton; the Professor on moderation; the Professor stepping delicately off.
“真的吗？”赫顿说，他会在汉普斯特德[71]的每个角落模仿教授的样子：教授谈论弥尔顿，教授谈论谦虚的美德，教授步履轻快地离开。【注：[71]伦敦的一个区名。】
Not that THEY added perceptibly to the noise of the party. They were not talking (perceptibly) as they stood side by side by the yellow curtains. They would soon be off elsewhere, together; and never had very much to say in any circumstances. They looked; that was all. That was enough. They looked so clean, so sound, she with an apricot bloom of powder and paint, but he scrubbed, rinsed, with the eyes of a bird, so that no ball could pass him or stroke surprise him. He struck, he leapt, accurately, on the spot. Ponies’ mouths quivered at the end of his reins. He had his honours, ancestral monuments, banners hanging in the church at home. He had his duties; his tenants; a mother and sisters; had been all day at Lords, and that was what they were talking about — cricket, cousins, the movies — when Mrs. Dalloway came up. Lord Gayton liked her most awfully. So did Miss Blow. She had such charming manners.
他们可没有明显地增加派对上的喧闹声。他们肩并肩站在黄窗帘边上，并没有在说话（或者说，即使他们在说话，你也听不见的）。他们很快就会一起躲到别处去的，可无论在哪里，他们从来都没有多少话要说。他们喜欢观察，仅此而已，已然足够。他们看上去非常干净，非常健康，她涂脂抹粉，如杏花盛开，而他则洗漱干净了，眼睛像鸟儿一般尖，所以不会错漏一球，没有任何突击会让他吃惊的。他击球、跳跃，动作精准，反应敏捷。只要他勒紧缰绳，就连赛马的嘴都会发颤呢。他有荣誉感，祖传的纪念碑啦，在老家教堂里飘扬着的家族旗帜啦。他有他的职责——管理佃户。他有母亲和姐妹。他整天都待在洛兹板球场，达洛维夫人走过去的时候，他们在谈论的正是这些内容——打板球呀，看电影呀，堂表亲们这样那样啦。盖顿勋爵真的非常喜欢达洛维夫人。布洛小姐也是。达洛维夫人的风度多迷人啊。
But she must speak to that couple, said Clarissa, Lord Gayton and Nancy Blow.
但是，她必须过去和那一对情侣说两句了，克拉丽莎说，就是盖顿勋爵和南希·布洛。
“It is angelic — it is delicious of you to have come!” she said. She loved Lords; she loved youth, and Nancy, dressed at enormous expense by the greatest artists in Paris, stood there looking as if her body had merely put forth, of its own accord, a green frill.
“你们能来真是太好了——太有劲了！”达洛维夫人说道。她喜欢勋爵。她热爱青年人，还有南希，穿着由巴黎最伟大的艺术家设计出来的天价服装，站在那儿，衣服上的绿花边看上去那么服帖，就像是从她的身体里长出来的呢。
For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn; carry sugar to ponies; kiss and caress the snouts of adorable chows; and then all tingling and streaming, plunge and swim. But the enormous resources of the English language, the power it bestows, after all, of communicating feelings (at their age, she and Peter would have been arguing all the evening), was not for them. They would solidify young. They would be good beyond measure to the people on the estate, but alone, perhaps, rather dull.
如今的青年人不会闲聊。他们干吗非要闲聊呢？他们会大呼小叫，会搂搂抱抱，会跳旋转的舞步，会在拂晓时起床，会拿糖果喂小马驹，会亲吻、爱抚他们那可爱的中国犬的鼻子，会浑身湿漉漉地跳进水里游泳。英语这笔巨大的宝藏，它赋予了人们交流感情的力量（在她和彼德年轻的时候，会彻夜争论不休呢），可是，毕竟不是属于当今的年轻人。语言的力量原本可以充实青年人呀。他们会和自己的家人很好地交流，但独自一人时，他们也许就变得相当沉闷了。
“What a pity!” she said. “I had hoped to have dancing.”
“真可惜！”克拉丽莎说，“我原来想办舞会的。”
It was so extraordinarily nice of them to have come! But talk of dancing! The rooms were packed.
他们能来实在是好得无以复加了！不过要说跳舞嘛，所有的房间里都已挤满了人！
“I had meant to have dancing,” said Clarissa.
“我原本打算开舞会的。”克拉丽莎说。
There was old Aunt Helena in her shawl. Alas, she must leave them — Lord Gayton and Nancy Blow. There was old Miss Parry, her aunt.
披着围巾的老海伦娜姑妈在那儿。哎呀，她不能再陪他们了——盖顿勋爵和南希·布洛。她得去招呼老帕里小姐了，那是她的姑妈呀。
“Come and talk to Aunt Helena about Burma,” said Clarissa.
“来和海伦娜姑妈谈谈缅甸吧。”克拉丽莎说。
For Miss Helena Parry was not dead: Miss Parry was alive. She was past eighty. She ascended staircases slowly with a stick. She was placed in a chair (Richard had seen to it). People who had known Burma in the ‘seventies were always led up to her. Where had Peter got to? They used to be such friends. For at the mention of India, or even Ceylon, her eyes (only one was glass) slowly deepened, became blue, beheld, not human beings — she had no tender memories, no proud illusions about Viceroys, Generals, Mutinies — it was orchids she saw, and mountain passes and herself carried on the backs of coolies in the ‘sixties over solitary peaks; or descending to uproot orchids (startling blossoms, never beheld before) which she painted in water-colour; an indomitable Englishwoman, fretful if disturbed by the War, say, which dropped a bomb at her very door, from her deep meditation over orchids and her own figure journeying in the ‘sixties in India — but here was Peter.
因为海伦娜·帕里小姐还没有死，她还活着呢，已经八十出头了。她拄着拐杖，慢慢地爬上了楼梯。她坐在了一张椅子上（是理查德扶她过去的）。了解70年代缅甸的人们都被领来见她了。彼德到哪里去了？他和老姑妈以前是很要好的朋友呢。只要一提到印度，甚至是锡兰[72]，她的眼睛（不过有一只眼珠是玻璃的）就会慢慢深沉起来，变得湛蓝，眼前浮现出来的，不是人物——她对总督、将军、乱党什么的全无温柔的回忆，也不存骄傲的幻想——而是兰花，和一道道山隘，以及60年代里苦力们抬着她穿越荒山野岭的情景，或者是下轿去采兰花（令人啧啧称奇的花，以前从没见过），好让她之后画些水彩画。一个不屈不挠的英国女人，尽管不时会受到战争的干扰，譬如，一颗炸弹在她家门口爆炸，从而打破了她对兰花和自己在60年代里在印度旅行的情景的沉思，使她感觉烦躁不安——不过，彼德走过来了。【注：[72]斯里兰卡的古称。】
“We will talk later,” said Clarissa, leading him up to Aunt Helena, in her white shawl, with her stick.
“我们过会儿再谈。”克拉丽莎说着，把他领到了披着白围巾、拄着拐杖的海伦娜姑妈面前。
That meant nothing.
这句话没能引起她的丝毫反应。
“Peter Walsh,” said Clarissa.
“这是彼德·沃尔什。”克拉丽莎说。
And yet he had not had a word with her all the evening!
整个晚上，他还没有和克拉丽莎说过一句话呢！
Clarissa had asked her. It was tiring; it was noisy; but Clarissa had asked her. So she had come. It was a pity that they lived in London — Richard and Clarissa. If only for Clarissa’s health it would have been better to live in the country. But Clarissa had always been fond of society.
克拉丽莎邀请了她。对她来说，参加派对实在太累人了，这里也太吵了，但克拉丽莎还是邀请了她。所以她来了。他们住在伦敦实在是遗憾——理查德和克拉丽莎。即便是仅仅考虑克拉丽莎的健康，他们也最好住到乡下去。可克拉丽莎总是喜欢社交活动。
“He has been in Burma,” said Clarissa.
“他去过缅甸。”克拉丽莎说。
Ah. She could not resist recalling what Charles Darwin had said about her little book on the orchids of Burma.
啊！海伦娜姑妈禁不住回想起查尔斯·达尔文[73]，他曾对她那本有关缅甸兰花的小书做过评论呢。【注：[73]达尔文（1809~1882）：英国生物学家，进化论的创始人。】
“Richard so much enjoyed his lunch party,” said Clarissa to Lady Bruton.
“理查德非常欣赏您的午餐会。”克拉丽莎对布鲁顿女士说。
(Clarissa must speak to Lady Bruton.)
（克拉丽莎一定要过去和布鲁顿女士聊聊。）
No doubt it was forgotten now, her book on the orchids of Burma, but it went into three editions before 1870, she told Peter. She remembered him now. He had been at Bourton (and he had left her, Peter Walsh remembered, without a word in the drawing-room that night when Clarissa had asked him to come boating).
如今，她那本关于缅甸兰花的书，肯定早已被人们遗忘了，但在1870年前它还出了三版呢，老姑妈告诉彼德说。此刻，她想起他来了。他以前在伯尔顿住过（彼德·沃尔什还记得，那晚他和老姑妈一起待在客厅里，后来克拉丽莎招呼他去划船，他连招呼也没和老姑妈打就走人了）。
Lady Bruton stood by Miss Parry’s chair, a spectral grenadier, draped in black, inviting Peter Walsh to lunch; cordial; but without small talk, remembering nothing whatever about the flora or fauna of India. She had been there, of course; had stayed with three Viceroys; thought some of the Indian civilians uncommonly fine fellows; but what a tragedy it was — the state of India! The Prime Minister had just been telling her (old Miss Parry huddled up in her shawl, did not care what the Prime Minister had just been telling her), and Lady Bruton would like to have Peter Walsh’s opinion, he being fresh from the centre, and she would get Sir Sampson to meet him, for really it prevented her from sleeping at night, the folly of it, the wickedness she might say, being a soldier’s daughter. She was an old woman now, not good for much. But her house, her servants, her good friend Milly Brush — did he remember her?– were all there only asking to be used if — if they could be of help, in short. For she never spoke of England, but this isle of men, this dear, dear land, was in her blood (without reading Shakespeare), and if ever a woman could have worn the helmet and shot the arrow, could have led troops to attack, ruled with indomitable justice barbarian hordes and lain under a shield noseless in a church, or made a green grass mound on some primeval hillside, that woman was Millicent Bruton. Debarred by her sex and some truancy, too, of the logical faculty (she found it impossible to write a letter to the Times), she had the thought of Empire always at hand, and had acquired from her association with that armoured goddess her ramrod bearing, her robustness of demeanour, so that one could not figure her even in death parted from the earth or roaming territories over which, in some spiritual shape, the Union Jack had ceased to fly. To be not English even among the dead — no, no! Impossible!
布鲁顿女士站在帕里小姐的椅子旁边，像个幽灵投弹手，穿着一袭黑衣，邀请彼德·沃尔什去参加她的午餐会。她很热情，但没有废话，对印度的花草鸟兽之类全无记忆。当然，她去过印度，曾在三位总督家住过，觉得有些印度平民实在是大好人。但印度的状况——真是惨不忍睹啊！首相刚刚告诉她的（老帕里小姐在披肩里缩成一团，首相说过什么她才不在意呢），而且，布鲁顿女士也很乐意听听彼德·沃尔什的意见，因为他刚从这个问题的核心过来，她会安排桑普森爵士和他见面的，因为那里的状况真的令她彻夜难眠。作为一个士兵的女儿，她觉得那里不仅是愚蠢，简直可说是邪恶。如今她年事已高，没有多大用处了。可她的房子，她的仆人，她的好朋友米莉·布拉什——他还记得吗？——都在那儿等着能派上用场呢——总之，只要他们能派上用场就好。虽然布鲁顿女士从来也不提起英国，但这座男人的岛屿，这片至亲至爱的土地，已经融入了她的血液里（虽然她没读过莎士比亚[74]）。如果天底下有一个女人会戴上头盔拉弓射箭，会指挥军队冲锋陷阵，用不屈不挠的正义感来统治蛮荒一族，最后被埋葬在教堂里平板的盾牌之下，或者被年代久远的某个山坡上的一堆青草掩埋，那女人就一定是米莉森特·布鲁顿。虽说她受到性别的限制，还缺乏严谨的逻辑思维（就连给《泰晤士报》写封信她都觉得力不从心），但她心里总惦记着大英帝国，因为受到了披盔戴甲的女神的感召，她获得了挺拔的身材和干练的作风，所以我们无法想象在她死后肉体会游离到尘世之外，或者以某种虚幻的形式，在大英国旗不再飘扬的国度里独自徘徊。哪怕是到了阴曹地府，要叫她不做英国人——不，不！绝对办不到！【注：[74]“这座男人的岛屿，这片至亲至爱的土地”等文字转引自莎士比亚的《理查二世》第二幕第四场。】
“And there’s Peter Walsh!” said Lady Bruton (for she could never think of anything to say to Clarissa; though she liked her. She had lots of fine qualities; but they had nothing in common — she and Clarissa. It might have been better if Richard had married a woman with less charm, who would have helped him more in his work. He had lost his chance of the Cabinet). “There’s Peter Walsh!” she said, shaking hands with that agreeable sinner, that very able fellow who should have made a name for himself but hadn’t (always in difficulties with women), and, of course, old Miss Parry. Wonderful old lady!
“彼德·沃尔什在那儿呢！”布鲁顿女士说（因为她从来想不出有什么话好跟克拉丽莎说的，尽管她喜欢克拉丽莎。克拉丽莎有许多优点，但她们俩从来没有共同语言——她和克拉丽莎。如果理查德娶的是一个不那么有魅力的女人，也许会更好些，平凡的女人会在工作上给他更多帮助的。他失去了进内阁的机会）。“彼德·沃尔什过来了！”她说着，随即和这个讨人喜欢的坏家伙握手，他是个非常能干的家伙，本该闯出一番显赫的事业，但没有（总是陷入女人方面的麻烦），当然，还有那个老帕里小姐。了不起的老妇人！
“Richard was the greatest possible help,” Lady Bruton replied. “He helped me to write a letter. And how are you?”
“理查德尽力帮助了我，”布鲁顿女士答复说，“他帮我写了一封信。你好吗？”
“Oh, perfectly well!” said Clarissa. (Lady Bruton detested illness in the wives of politicians.)
“哦，好极了！”克拉丽莎说。（布鲁顿女士讨厌这些病恹恹的政客夫人们。）
“I shall come back,” she said, looking at her old friends, Sally and Peter, who were shaking hands, and Sally, remembering the past no doubt, was laughing.
“我会回来的。”她看着老朋友萨利和彼德说道，他们在握手哩，萨利还在笑呢，她一定是想起了往事。
Clarissa stopped beside them.
克拉丽莎在她们旁边停下来。
But was it Lady Bruton (whom she used to know)? Was it Peter Walsh grown grey? Lady Rosseter asked herself (who had been Sally Seton). It was old Miss Parry certainly — the old aunt who used to be so cross when she stayed at Bourton. Never should she forget running along the passage naked, and being sent for by Miss Parry! And Clarissa! oh Clarissa! Sally caught her by the arm.
那是布鲁顿女士吗（她过去很熟的那位）？那是两鬓斑白了的彼德·沃尔什吗？罗塞特女士（以前叫萨利·西顿）自问道。那位当然是老帕里小姐啰——她过去住在伯尔顿时，这位老姑妈常对她火冒三丈呢。她永远也不会忘记自己赤身露体在走道上跑的那回事，后来帕里小姐还把她叫去狠狠地训了一顿呢！还有克拉丽莎！哦，克拉丽莎！萨利抓住她的手臂。
“But I can’t stay,” she said. “I shall come later. Wait,” she said, looking at Peter and Sally. They must wait, she meant, until all these people had gone.
“可我这会儿没空啊，”克拉丽莎说，“我过会儿就来，等我哦。”她看着彼德和萨利，说道。他们必须等，她的意思是说，他们必须等到所有人都离开之后。
But her voice was wrung of its old ravishing richness; her eyes not aglow as they used to be, when she smoked cigars, when she ran down the passage to fetch her sponge bag, without a stitch of clothing on her, and Ellen Atkins asked, What if the gentlemen had met her? But everybody forgave her. She stole a chicken from the larder because she was hungry in the night; she smoked cigars in her bedroom; she left a priceless book in the punt. But everybody adored her (except perhaps Papa). It was her warmth; her vitality — she would paint, she would write. Old women in the village never to this day forgot to ask after “your friend in the red cloak who seemed so bright.” She accused Hugh Whitbread, of all people (and there he was, her old friend Hugh, talking to the Portuguese Ambassador), of kissing her in the smoking-room to punish her for saying that women should have votes. Vulgar men did, she said. And Clarissa remembered having to persuade her not to denounce him at family prayers — which she was capable of doing with her daring, her recklessness, her melodramatic love of being the centre of everything and creating scenes, and it was bound, Clarissa used to think, to end in some awful tragedy; her death; her martyrdom; instead of which she had married, quite unexpectedly, a bald man with a large buttonhole who owned, it was said, cotton mills at Manchester. And she had five boys!
可是，她的嗓音已没有了以前那种引人陶醉的珠圆玉润，她的眼睛也不像以前那么闪闪放光了。想当年，她吸雪茄，她一丝不挂地跑过走廊去拿她的海绵包，那时，埃伦·阿特金斯还问她要是给先生们看见了该如何是好呢？但大家都原谅了她。她在储藏室里偷了一盆鸡，因为她晚上老是觉得腹中空空；她在卧室里抽雪茄；她把一本价值不菲的书忘记在了小船上。但大家都喜爱她（也许只有爸爸不在其列）。是因为她的热情﹑她的活力——她既会画画，又会写作。村子里的老婆婆们至今仍不会忘记她，会让克拉丽莎代她们问候一下“你那位披着红斗篷、看上去非常阳光的朋友。”她在众人中挑选出休·惠特布莱德（他在那儿，克拉丽莎的老朋友休，正在和葡萄牙大使说话）来攻击，谴责他为了报复她说女人也该有选举权，而在吸烟室里对她非礼。只有下流的男人才会干这种事，她说。克拉丽莎还记得，当时不得不劝说她，别在家庭祈祷仪式上公开地指责他——她做得出来的，她是个大胆莽撞、爱出风头、爱生事端的人。克拉丽莎过去常这么想，像她这么风风火火的人肯定会以可怕的悲剧收场的——离奇的死亡，或者殉难。但没想到的是，她非但没有发生悲剧，而且还成了家，嫁给了一个衣冠楚楚、纽孔巨大的光头，据说此人在曼彻斯特拥有多家棉纺厂。而且，她还生了五个小子呢！
She and Peter had settled down together. They were talking: it seemed so familiar — that they should be talking. They would discuss the past. With the two of them (more even than with Richard) she shared her past; the garden; the trees; old Joseph Breitkopf singing Brahms without any voice; the drawing-room wallpaper; the smell of the mats. A part of this Sally must always be; Peter must always be. But she must leave them. There were the Bradshaws, whom she disliked. She must go up to Lady Bradshaw (in grey and silver, balancing like a sea-lion at the edge of its tank, barking for invitations, Duchesses, the typical successful man’s wife), she must go up to Lady Bradshaw and say…
她和彼德坐到了一起。他们说着话：一切如此熟悉——他们是该聊聊了。他们要好好聊聊过去。克拉丽莎的过去是和这两个人密不可分的（甚至要超过理查德）：老家的花园，树木，老约瑟夫·布莱特科普夫提着破锣嗓子唱着勃拉姆斯的歌曲，客厅的墙纸，草席的气味。萨利肯定永远都是这个过去的一部分，彼德也一样。可克拉丽莎没空陪他们。布莱德肖夫妇来了，她不喜欢他们。她必须去布莱德肖夫人（她穿着灰白相间的衣服，像只在水池边上摇摇摆摆的海狮，叫嚣着要别人邀请她，要结识公爵夫人，这个典型的成功男人的贤内助）那里，她必须去布莱德肖夫人那里寒暄几句…
And Sir William, who looked very distinguished, with his grey hair and blue eyes, said yes; they had not been able to resist the temptation. He was talking to Richard about that Bill probably, which they wanted to get through the Commons. Why did the sight of him, talking to Richard, curl her up? He looked what he was, a great doctor. A man absolutely at the head of his profession, very powerful, rather worn. For think what cases came before him — people in the uttermost depths of misery; people on the verge of insanity; husbands and wives. He had to decide questions of appalling difficulty. Yet — what she felt was, one wouldn’t like Sir William to see one unhappy. No; not that man.
还有威廉爵士，他头发灰白，眼睛碧蓝，看上去十分高贵，他也说来得实在太晚了，但他们无法抵御派对的诱惑。他也许正在和理查德谈论那项议案，他们都希望下院能够通过。为什么看到他，看到他和理查德说话，她会觉得恶心呢？他看上去仪表堂堂，完全符合名医的身份。一个在他那一行里绝对是数一数二的人物，大权在握，可也显得很疲惫。只要想一想找他看病的都是些什么人，就不难理解了——净是些处在悲惨地狱的最底层的人，精神濒临崩溃的人，濒临崩溃的夫妇，等等。他必须解决那些极为棘手的问题。然而——她的感觉是，你不会愿意让威廉爵士看出你不快活来的。不，不能让那家伙看出来。
But Lady Bradshaw anticipated her.
但布莱德肖夫人抢在了她的前头。
“We are shockingly late, dear Mrs. Dalloway, we hardly dared to come in,” she said.
“我们来得实在太晚了，亲爱的达洛维夫人，我们几乎都不好意思进来了。”布莱德肖夫人说。
He had just missed his eleven, said Lady Bradshaw, because of the mumps. His father minded even more than he did, she thought “being,” she said, “nothing but a great boy himself.”
因为得了腮腺炎，布莱德肖夫人说，他没能参加十一岁考[75]。他父亲甚至比他还急呢，她这么觉得，她说：“他自己也不过是个大孩子而已。”【注：[75]英国的一项考试制度，类似于小学会考，现已基本废除。】
Clarissa looked at Sir William, talking to Richard. He did not look like a boy — not in the least like a boy. She had once gone with some one to ask his advice. He had been perfectly right; extremely sensible. But Heavens — what a relief to get out to the street again! There was some poor wretch sobbing, she remembered, in the waiting-room. But she did not know what it was — about Sir William; what exactly she disliked. Only Richard agreed with her, “didn’t like his taste, didn’t like his smell.” But he was extraordinarily able. They were talking about this Bill. Some case, Sir William was mentioning, lowering his voice. It had its bearing upon what he was saying about the deferred effects of shell shock. There must be some provision in the Bill.
克拉丽莎看着威廉爵士，他正在和理查德说话。他看上去可不像是个孩子——一点都不像。她有次陪某人去他那里看病。他的医疗方法绝对正确，完全合理。可是老天爷啊——从他那里出来，重新走到大街上，会给人多大的安慰呀！有个可怜的病人在候诊室里淌眼泪，她还记得。可是，她也说不清楚是怎么回事——威廉爵士到底哪里不对劲，她到底讨厌他什么地方。不过，理查德倒和她意见一致，“不喜欢他的品位，也不喜欢他的气味”。但他毕竟是个能力超强的人。他们在商量那个议案。威廉爵士压低了声音，讨论起某个病例。他所说的和什么弹震症的延迟发作有关。应该把相应的条款写进议案里去。
“How is your son at Eton?” she asked Lady Bradshaw.
“你在伊顿念书的儿子好吗？”她问布莱德肖夫人。
Sinking her voice, drawing Mrs. Dalloway into the shelter of a common femininity, a common pride in the illustrious qualities of husbands and their sad tendency to overwork, Lady Bradshaw (poor goose — one didn’t dislike her) murmured how, “just as we were starting, my husband was called up on the telephone, a very sad case. A young man (that is what Sir William is telling Mr. Dalloway) had killed himself. He had been in the army.” Oh! thought Clarissa, in the middle of my party, here’s death, she thought.
布莱德肖夫人（可怜的傻瓜——但人们并不讨厌她）这会儿放低了声音，把达洛维夫人拖入了一个具有共同女性特征的——一方面对丈夫们的优秀品质感到无比自豪，另一方面对他们劳累过度的可悲倾向又无比担忧的——庇护所内，轻声细语地说道：“我们刚准备出门时，我丈夫接到了一个电话，一个很惨的病例。一个小青年（威廉爵士正在告诉达洛维先生的，也是这件事）自杀了。他曾参过军。”哦！克拉丽莎想道，我的派对还在进行中呢，死亡就这么闯进来了，她想道。
What business had the Bradshaws to talk of death at her party? A young man had killed himself. And they talked of it at her party — the Bradshaws, talked of death. He had killed himself — but how? Always her body went through it first, when she was told, suddenly, of an accident; her dress flamed, her body burnt. He had thrown himself from a window. Up had flashed the ground; through him, blundering, bruising, went the rusty spikes. There he lay with a thud, thud, thud in his brain, and then a suffocation of blackness. So she saw it. But why had he done it? And the Bradshaws talked of it at her party!
布莱德肖夫妇有什么权利在她的派对上谈论死亡呢？一个小伙子自杀了。他们就在她的派对上谈论这种事——这对夫妻，谈论着死亡。他自杀了——可怎么死的呢？每当她在突然间听到什么事故时，总觉得像亲身经历过一般：如果是火灾，她会觉得衣服起火了，身体烧着了。那个小青年从窗口纵身跳下去了。大地闪耀着白光，生锈的栏杆尖刺穿了他，伤痕累累的，真是不巧。他躺在地上，脑子里响起砰、砰、砰的声音，然后是一片令人窒息的黑暗。她看到了如此景象。可他为什么要那么做呢？那对布莱德肖夫妇居然在她的派对上讲这种事情！
She went on, into the little room where the Prime Minister had gone with Lady Bruton. Perhaps there was somebody there. But there was nobody. The chairs still kept the impress of the Prime Minister and Lady Bruton, she turned deferentially, he sitting four-square, authoritatively. They had been talking about India. There was nobody. The party’s splendour fell to the floor, so strange it was to come in alone in her finery.
克拉丽莎继续往里走，走进了首相和布鲁顿女士刚才进去的那间小房间。也许有人在那里吧。可是一个人也没有。椅子上还留着首相和布鲁顿女士刚才坐过的痕迹，布鲁顿女士恭恭敬敬地侧过身坐，而他则正襟危坐，气宇轩昂。他们刚才还在谈论着印度。可现在这里没人了。派对的华彩已灰飞烟灭，穿着华服独自走进这房间，感觉多么奇怪噢。
She had once thrown a shilling into the Serpentine, never anything more. But he had flung it away. They went on living (she would have to go back; the rooms were still crowded; people kept on coming). They (all day she had been thinking of Bourton, of Peter, of Sally), they would grow old. A thing there was that mattered; a thing, wreathed about with chatter, defaced, obscured in her own life, let drop every day in corruption, lies, chatter. This he had preserved. Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death.
她有次往蛇湖里扔了一枚先令，后来就再没扔过任何东西。可是那青年却把自己的生命扔了进去。生活总还要继续（她一定要回到派对上去了，房间里依旧人头攒动，还不断有人进来）。这些客人们（她一整天都在想着伯尔顿，想着彼德，想着萨利），他们都会慢慢变老的。有一件很重要的东西，而这件东西，在她自己的生命中，往往被喋喋不休所淹没，所毁伤，所失色，在堕落、谎言和八卦之中，这件重要之物就一天天地流失了。但那个青年却保存了这件珍宝。死亡就是他对人世的挑战。死亡是渴望沟通的一种努力，人们却感觉无法深入到事物的核心，因为它总是神秘地回避着我们，近在咫尺又似乎远在天涯，欢宴之后，留下的是孤零零的一个人。死亡之中，却有着拥抱的暖意呵。
Or there were the poets and thinkers. Suppose he had had that passion, and had gone to Sir William Bradshaw, a great doctor yet to her obscurely evil, without sex or lust, extremely polite to women, but capable of some indescribable outrage — forcing your soul, that was it — if this young man had gone to him, and Sir William had impressed him, like that, with his power, might he not then have said (indeed she felt it now), Life is made intolerable; they make life intolerable, men like that?
或许诗人和哲人也这么想吧。假设他有过那样的激情，并且去找了威廉·布莱德肖爵士看病，他是个伟大的医生，然而在她眼里他总有股说不清楚的邪恶感，他似乎没有性别也没有欲望，对女人总是礼貌有加，但又能干下某种难以言说的恶行——对你的灵魂横加干涉，就是这回事——如果这个小伙子去找他看病，而威廉爵士用他的权力如此这般地对那小伙子施压，那么他也许会这么说（她现在真的这么觉得），生活实在叫人忍无可忍啊。正是像威廉爵士那样的人，使生活变得忍无可忍，难道不是吗？
But this young man who had killed himself — had he plunged holding his treasure? “If it were now to die, ’twere now to be most happy,” she had said to herself once, coming down in white.
可这个自杀了的小伙子——他是怀揣着珍宝跳下去的吗？“如果此刻就能奔赴黄泉，那么此刻就是最幸福的。”她有次穿着一袭白衣走下楼时，曾对自己这么说过。
Then (she had felt it only this morning) there was the terror; the overwhelming incapacity, one’s parents giving it into one’s hands, this life, to be lived to the end, to be walked with serenely; there was in the depths of her heart an awful fear. Even now, quite often if Richard had not been there reading the Times, so that she could crouch like a bird and gradually revive, send roaring up that immeasurable delight, rubbing stick to stick, one thing with another, she must have perished. But that young man had killed himself.
另外（她今天早上才感觉到的），还有生命的恐怖感：父母们将生命交付到我们的手中，并期望我们平平安安地一路走到生命的终点，但我们却倍感无奈。在她的内心深处，感觉到一种骇人的恐惧。即使是现在，她也会感到生命里到处都是磕磕绊绊，烦恼接连不断，如果不是有理查德常在她身边看《泰晤士报》，使她得以如小鸟般蜷缩一旁，一点一点地恢复生机，从而自心底里唱出一首欢乐之歌，她一定早就夭折了。可那个小伙子自杀了。
Somehow it was her disaster — her disgrace. It was her punishment to see sink and disappear here a man, there a woman, in this profound darkness, and she forced to stand here in her evening dress. She had schemed; she had pilfered. She was never wholly admirable. She had wanted success. Lady Bexborough and the rest of it. And once she had walked on the terrace at Bourton.
无论如何，这都是她的灾难——她的耻辱。这是对她的惩罚，让她在黑暗的深渊里，看见这儿有个男人倒下去，那儿有个女人殒殁了，而她却被迫穿着晚礼服，站立在这里。她曾经用诡计陷害过别人，也曾经顺手牵羊过。她从来不像旁人看来的那般可敬可爱。她也曾渴望成功，渴望成为像贝克斯伯罗女士那样的人。她还曾在伯尔顿的露台上散过步呢。
It was due to Richard; she had never been so happy. Nothing could be slow enough; nothing last too long. No pleasure could equal, she thought, straightening the chairs, pushing in one book on the shelf, this having done with the triumphs of youth, lost herself in the process of living, to find it, with a shock of delight, as the sun rose, as the day sank. Many a time had she gone, at Bourton when they were all talking, to look at the sky; or seen it between people’s shoulders at dinner; seen it in London when she could not sleep. She walked to the window.
一切都归功于理查德，她从没感觉那么幸福过。没有任何事物进展得过于缓慢，也没有任何事物会久久地原地踏步。没有任何一种快乐能与之相比拟，她想着，扶正了椅子，把书架上的一本书往里推一推，青春的辉煌已成为往事，在生活的洪流中失去了自我，而现在，在惊喜中，她重新发现了生活的滋味，正如日出和日落，每个时刻都有不同的乐趣。在伯尔顿，在人们都在那儿说话时，她却老是喜欢去眺望天空，或者在晚饭时，透过别人的肩膀眺望苍穹。如今，在她失眠的时候，她依旧会去眺望伦敦的夜空。此时，她走到了窗前。
It held, foolish as the idea was, something of her own in it, this country sky, this sky above Westminster. She parted the curtains; she looked. Oh, but how surprising!– in the room opposite the old lady stared straight at her! She was going to bed. And the sky. It will be a solemn sky, she had thought, it will be a dusky sky, turning away its cheek in beauty. But there it was — ashen pale, raced over quickly by tapering vast clouds. It was new to her. The wind must have risen. She was going to bed, in the room opposite. It was fascinating to watch her, moving about, that old lady, crossing the room, coming to the window. Could she see her? It was fascinating, with people still laughing and shouting in the drawing-room, to watch that old woman, quite quietly, going to bed. She pulled the blind now. The clock began striking. The young man had killed himself; but she did not pity him; with the clock striking the hour, one, two, three, she did not pity him, with all this going on. There! the old lady had put out her light! the whole house was dark now with this going on, she repeated, and the words came to her, Fear no more the heat of the sun. She must go back to them. But what an extraordinary night! She felt somehow very like him — the young man who had killed himself. She felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away. The clock was striking. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. He made her feel the beauty; made her feel the fun. But she must go back. She must assemble. She must find Sally and Peter. And she came in from the little room.
这片乡村的天空，威斯敏斯特上方的天空，与她生命里的什么东西交织在一起呢，这种想法真够傻的。她拉开窗帘，眺望天空。哦，可怎么也想不到啊！——对面房间里的老妇人在直直地瞪着她呢！那妇人正要上床去。至于那天空嘛，她原本以为，它会藏起那柔美的脸颊，以一种肃然而昏暗的面貌示人。可是你瞧——苍茫的天空里，有大团的细云在飞快地掠过。这样的景象对她来说倒蛮新鲜的。一定是起风了。对面房间里的那个老太太，正准备上床去。她看着老太太在那里四处走动，穿过房间，走到窗前，真是一道迷人的风景。老太太会看见她吗？看着那个老太太，非常平静地上床去，实在是太感人了，而客厅这边的人们还在欢声笑语、大呼小叫的。稍后，她拉起了百叶窗。钟声响起来。小伙子自杀了，可她并不同情他。钟声敲响了，一下，两下，三下，一切还在进行中呢，她并不同情他。瞧！老太太关灯了！派对还在进行中呢，可那幢房子却漆黑一片了，她反复说道，话语自动地来到她嘴边，别再害怕灼热的太阳。她一定得回去招呼客人们了。但这是一个多么辉煌的夜晚呀！无论如何，她感觉自己和那个人很像——那个自杀了的小伙子。她为他抛弃了一切而感到高兴，他甚至抛弃了生命。钟声响了。沉重的声浪在夜空中融化了。他使她感觉到了美丽，使她体会到了快乐。可她必须回去了。她必须回到人群中去了。她必须到萨利和彼德那儿去。她从小房间出来，走进了客厅。
“But where is Clarissa?” said Peter. He was sitting on the sofa with Sally. (After all these years he really could not call her “Lady Rosseter.”) “Where’s the woman gone to?” he asked. “Where’s Clarissa?”
“可克拉丽莎去哪儿了呢？”彼德问道。他和萨利一起坐在沙发上（经过了那么多年，他真的无法把她叫作“罗塞特夫人”）。“这个女人，上哪儿去了呀？”他问，“克拉丽莎在哪儿呀？”
Sally supposed, and so did Peter for the matter of that, that there were people of importance, politicians, whom neither of them knew unless by sight in the picture papers, whom Clarissa had to be nice to, had to talk to. She was with them. Yet there was Richard Dalloway not in the Cabinet. He hadn’t been a success, Sally supposed? For herself, she scarcely ever read the papers. She sometimes saw his name mentioned. But then — well, she lived a very solitary life, in the wilds, Clarissa would say, among great merchants, great manufacturers, men, after all, who did things. She had done things too!
萨利猜想，彼德原来也是那么想的，一定是来了许多他们俩都不认识的要人和政客，除非碰巧在报纸上看见过他们的照片，克拉丽莎不得不去照应他们，不得不去和他们寒暄一番。她和他们很熟。然而，理查德还是没能进内阁。他没有取得成功，萨利是这么猜想的，至于她自己嘛，她几乎从来不看报。她只有几次看见报上提到理查德的名字。可那又怎么样呢——好吧，她过着一种孤陋寡闻的生活，生活在荒野中，克拉丽莎会这么说，但她的生活里却有不少大商人和大工厂主呢，反正都是些干实事的人。她自己也是干实事的！
Lord, Lord, what a change had come over her! the softness of motherhood; its egotism too. Last time they met, Peter remembered, had been among the cauliflowers in the moonlight, the leaves “like rough bronze” she had said, with her literary turn; and she had picked a rose. She had marched him up and down that awful night, after the scene by the fountain; he was to catch the midnight train. Heavens, he had wept!
天哪，天哪，她的变化多大呀！温柔的母性，为儿子沾沾自喜呢。彼德记得，他们最后一次的见面，是在月光下的花椰菜丛中，她当时还说了菜叶“如粗糙的青铜”，她很有些文学修养。那晚，她还摘了一朵玫瑰。在那个糟糕的夜晚，在发生了喷泉旁的一幕之后，她还领着他不停地走来走去呢，而他还要去赶午夜的火车。天晓得，他当时居然还哭了！
“I have five sons!” she told him.
“我有五个儿子！”她告诉彼德。
That was his old trick, opening a pocket-knife, thought Sally, always opening and shutting a knife when he got excited. They had been very, very intimate, she and Peter Walsh, when he was in love with Clarissa, and there was that dreadful, ridiculous scene over Richard Dalloway at lunch. She had called Richard “Wickham.” Why not call Richard “Wickham”? Clarissa had flared up! and indeed they had never seen each other since, she and Clarissa, not more than half a dozen times perhaps in the last ten years. And Peter Walsh had gone off to India, and she had heard vaguely that he had made an unhappy marriage, and she didn’t know whether he had any children, and she couldn’t ask him, for he had changed. He was rather shrivelled-looking, but kinder, she felt, and she had a real affection for him, for he was connected with her youth, and she still had a little Emily Brontë he had given her, and he was to write, surely? In those days he was to write.
那是他的老把戏了，打开他的小折刀，萨利想，在他激动的时候，他总是打开又阖上那把折刀。他们那时是多么亲密无间呀，她和彼德·沃尔什，当时他还爱着克拉丽莎，还有那次午餐，为了理查德·达洛维而发生的那场可怕又荒唐的争吵。就为了她把理查德叫作“威克姆[76]”。为什么不能叫他“威克姆”呢？克拉丽莎顿时就发了飙。她们从此就没再见面，她和克拉丽莎，在过去的十年中，她们最多也就见过五六次面。而彼德·沃尔什就此去了印度，她还似乎听别人说起过，他在那里结了婚，但婚姻不幸福，不知道他是否有了小孩，她也不好直接问他，因为他已经不是从前的那个彼德了。他看上去有点憔悴，不过比以前更和蔼了，她觉得，她真的很喜欢他，因为她的青春是和他联系在一起的，她至今保存着他当年送给她的一本艾米莉·勃朗特的薄薄的书，他一定是打算写作吧？当时，他确实打算写作呢。【注：[76]Wickham，字面意思是坏蛋。】
“Have you written?” she asked him, spreading her hand, her firm and shapely hand, on her knee in a way he recalled.
“你后来写作了吗？”她问他，一面张开手来，她那双漂亮又有力的手放在了膝盖上，他还记得她的这个习惯姿势。
“Yes, I have ten thousand a year”– whether before the tax was paid or after, she couldn’t remember, for her husband, “whom you must meet,” she said, “whom you would like,” she said, did all that for her.
“是的，我的年收入有一万镑。”——至于这收入是税前还是税后，她也记不清了，因为一切都由她的丈夫替她操心。“你一定得见见他，”她说，“你一定会喜欢他的。”她接着说。
“Not a word!” said Peter Walsh, and she laughed.
“一个字也没写过！”彼德·沃尔什说，她笑了起来。
She was still attractive, still a personage, Sally Seton. But who was this Rosseter? He wore two camellias on his wedding day — that was all Peter knew of him. “They have myriads of servants, miles of conservatories,” Clarissa wrote; something like that. Sally owned it with a shout of laughter.
她依旧很迷人，依旧是个了不起的人物，这个萨利·西顿。可是这个罗塞特，又是何许人呢？他在结婚那天别了两朵山茶花——这就是彼德对他的全部了解。“他们家有数不清的仆人，绵延几英里的温室。”克拉丽莎在信中告诉他。情况大致如此吧。萨利哄然大笑，承认那确实是事实。
And Sally used to be in rags and tatters. She had pawned her grandmother’s ring which Marie Antoinette had given her great- grandfather to come to Bourton.
而过去的萨利，常常穿得像个叫花子呢。为了去伯尔顿，她还当掉了她奶奶的戒指，那还是玛丽·安托瓦内特送给她曾祖父的呢。
Oh yes, Sally remembered; she had it still, a ruby ring which Marie Antoinette had given her great-grandfather. She never had a penny to her name in those days, and going to Bourton always meant some frightful pinch. But going to Bourton had meant so much to her — had kept her sane, she believed, so unhappy had she been at home. But that was all a thing of the past — all over now, she said. And Mr. Parry was dead; and Miss Parry was still alive. Never had he had such a shock in his life! said Peter. He had been quite certain she was dead. And the marriage had been, Sally supposed, a success? And that very handsome, very self-possessed young woman was Elizabeth, over there, by the curtains, in red.
哦，是的，萨利想起来了，她把它赎回来后一直保存着，这枚玛丽·安托瓦内特送给她曾祖父的戒指。在当时，她名下真可说是一文不名，想去一趟伯尔顿总是意味着要伤透脑筋。但是去伯尔顿对她来说意义重大——能够使她保持心智健全，她相信，在家里时她是多么不幸啊。但那都是陈年往事了——如今一切都过去了，她说。帕里先生已经过世，而帕里小姐仍健在。他这辈子还从没听过比这更惊人的消息！彼德说。他一直以为她已经去世了呢。萨利猜想，克拉丽莎和达洛维的婚姻一定很成功吧？就在那边，在窗帘旁边，穿着红衣服的，那位非常漂亮、镇定自若的年轻姑娘，就是伊丽莎白。
(She was like a poplar, she was like a river, she was like a hyacinth, Willie Titcomb was thinking. Oh how much nicer to be in the country and do what she liked! She could hear her poor dog howling, Elizabeth was certain.) She was not a bit like Clarissa, Peter Walsh said.
（她宛如一株白杨，宛如一条河流，宛如一朵风信子，威利·提特柯姆心想。哦，待在乡下有多好啊，她可以随心所欲地过日子呢！她听见那条可怜的狗又在吠叫了，伊丽莎白敢肯定。）她一点也不像克拉丽莎，彼德·沃尔什说。
“Oh, Clarissa!” said Sally.
“哦，克拉丽莎！”萨利说。
What Sally felt was simply this. She had owed Clarissa an enormous amount. They had been friends, not acquaintances, friends, and she still saw Clarissa all in white going about the house with her hands full of flowers — to this day tobacco plants made her think of Bourton. But — did Peter understand?– she lacked something. Lacked what was it? She had charm; she had extraordinary charm. But to be frank (and she felt that Peter was an old friend, a real friend — did absence matter? did distance matter? She had often wanted to write to him, but torn it up, yet felt he understood, for people understand without things being said, as one realises growing old, and old she was, had been that afternoon to see her sons at Eton, where they had the mumps), to be quite frank then, how could Clarissa have done it?– married Richard Dalloway? a sportsman, a man who cared only for dogs. Literally, when he came into the room he smelt of the stables. And then all this? She waved her hand.
萨利有这么一种强烈的感觉，她觉得自己欠克拉丽莎很大一个人情。她们曾是好朋友，不只是熟人，更是好朋友，她还能看见穿着一袭白衣的克拉丽莎，捧着满满一束鲜花在宅子里穿梭——烟草的味道至今仍会令她回想起伯尔顿。可是——彼德明白吗？——克拉丽莎是有欠缺的。可她欠缺什么呢？她有魅力，而且魅力无边。可老实说（此刻她觉得彼德是一个老朋友，一个真正的朋友——久未见面有什么关系呢？距离又有什么关系呢？她过去常想给他写信，可结果又总是把信纸撕掉，然而她还是觉得他能理解的，因为人们就是不用语言也能相互理解嘛，就像人们会意识到自己的逐渐衰老，她真的老了，那天下午她还去伊顿看望了儿子呢，小家伙们得了腮腺炎），那么老实说吧，克拉丽莎怎么能做下那件事呢？——怎么能嫁给理查德·达洛维？一个爱好运动的人，一个只关心小猫小狗的人。每当他走进房间，你就能闻到他身上有股马厩的气味，一点不假。还有这种派对，有什么意思呢？萨利不屑地挥挥手。
He blacked the King’s boots or counted bottles at Windsor, Peter told her. Peter kept his sharp tongue still! But Sally must be frank, Peter said. That kiss now, Hugh’s.
他为国王擦皮靴，或者在温莎宫里数老酒瓶，彼德对她说。彼德还是那么出言不逊！但萨利，你一定要向我坦白，彼德说。就现在，说说那个吻到底是怎么回事，就是休的那个吻。
Hugh Whitbread it was, strolling past in his white waistcoat, dim, fat, blind, past everything he looked, except self-esteem and comfort.
那是休·惠特布莱德，他穿着白马甲溜达过去了，大腹便便，目光茫然，对一切都视而不见，只看见自己的骄傲和心满意足。
“He’s not going to recognise US,” said Sally, and really she hadn’t the courage — so that was Hugh! the admirable Hugh!
“他不会认出我们来的。”萨利说，而她也真的没有勇气——那真的是休！那个令人赞赏的休！
On the lips, she assured him, in the smoking-room one evening. She went straight to Clarissa in a rage. Hugh didn’t do such things! Clarissa said, the admirable Hugh! Hugh’s socks were without exception the most beautiful she had ever seen — and now his evening dress. Perfect! And had he children?
他吻了她的唇，她向彼德保证，事情发生在那天晚上的吸烟室。她怒气冲冲地径直去找克拉丽莎告状。休不会干出那种事来的！克拉丽莎说，他是令人赞赏的休嘛！就说休穿的袜子，无一例外都是她所见过的最漂亮的——此时他穿着一身晚礼服，近乎完美！他有孩子了吗？
“And what does he do?” she asked Peter.
“他现在是干什么的？”她问彼德。
But it had been a silly thing to do, in many ways, Peter said, to marry like that; “a perfect goose she was,” he said, but, he said, “we had a splendid time of it,” but how could that be? Sally wondered; what did he mean? and how odd it was to know him and yet not know a single thing that had happened to him. And did he say it out of pride? Very likely, for after all it must be galling for him (though he was an oddity, a sort of sprite, not at all an ordinary man), it must be lonely at his age to have no home, nowhere to go to. But he must stay with them for weeks and weeks. Of course he would; he would love to stay with them, and that was how it came out. All these years the Dalloways had never been once. Time after time they had asked them. Clarissa (for it was Clarissa of course) would not come. For, said Sally, Clarissa was at heart a snob — one had to admit it, a snob. And it was that that was between them, she was convinced. Clarissa thought she had married beneath her, her husband being — she was proud of it — a miner’s son. Every penny they had he had earned. As a little boy (her voice trembled) he had carried great sacks.
但从方方面面来看，那样的婚姻都是一件愚蠢的事，彼德说。“克拉丽莎真是个十足的傻瓜，”他说，但是他又说，“我们有过一段美好的时光。”可是那怎么可能？萨利寻思，他是什么意思？虽说认识他，却对他的经历一无所知，真是奇怪透顶。他是因为骄傲才说出这番话来的吗？很有可能，因为这事毕竟令他苦恼不已（尽管他是个怪胎，一个妖魔鬼怪般的人物，跟普通人截然不同），到了他这把年纪还没有自己的家，没有自己的归宿，一定会陷入寂寞孤独的。但他一定要上他们家去住上几个礼拜。他当然会的，他会喜欢住在她家的，归根结底就是这么回事。这么多年来，达洛维夫妇一次也没去她家玩过。他们也不知邀请过多少回了。克拉丽莎（当然是克拉丽莎的主意啰）就是不肯去。因为，萨利说，克拉丽莎在骨子里是个势利鬼——我们必须承认，她是个势利鬼。而这正是她们间的隔阂所在，萨利确信。克拉丽莎觉得萨利的婚姻门不当户不对，她老公是个——萨利本人却以此为荣——矿工的儿子。他还是个小毛孩的时候（她的声音颤抖着），就扛过大麻袋呢。
“Everybody in the room has six sons at Eton,” Peter told her, except himself. He, thank God, had none. No sons, no daughters, no wife. Well, he didn’t seem to mind, said Sally. He looked younger, she thought, than any of them.
“这间屋子里的每个人都有六个儿子在伊顿。”彼德告诉她，除了他自己。他，谢天谢地，没有孩子。没有儿子，没有女儿，也没有妻子。好吧，他似乎并不介意。萨利说，她觉得，他看上去比他们中的任何人都更为年轻。
(And so she would go on, Peter felt, hour after hour; the miner’s son; people thought she had married beneath her; her five sons; and what was the other thing — plants, hydrangeas, syringas, very, very rare hibiscus lilies that never grow north of the Suez Canal, but she, with one gardener in a suburb near Manchester, had beds of them, positively beds! Now all that Clarissa had escaped, unmaternal as she was.)
（彼德觉得，她能这样一直讲下去，讲它个把小时：矿工的儿子啦，人们觉得他配不上她啦，她有五个儿子啦，还有些什么来着——花花草草，绣球花、紫丁香，还有极为稀有的木槿百合，这种花在苏伊士运河以北从来养不活，可是她却在曼彻斯特的郊区，和一个花匠一起栽培了好几花坛，真的是好几花坛哦！而克拉丽莎回避了所有这一切，她本来就不是个贤妻良母型的女人。）
A snob was she? Yes, in many ways. Where was she, all this time? It was getting late.
克拉丽莎是个势利鬼吗？是的，各方面都是。都过去这么长时间了，她人在哪儿呢？时候不早了。
It was Mrs. Hilbery, looking for the door. For how late it was getting! And, she murmured, as the night grew later, as people went, one found old friends; quiet nooks and corners; and the loveliest views. Did they know, she asked, that they were surrounded by an enchanted garden? Lights and trees and wonderful gleaming lakes and the sky. Just a few fairy lamps, Clarissa Dalloway had said, in the back garden! But she was a magician! It was a park… And she didn’t know their names, but friends she knew they were, friends without names, songs without words, always the best. But there were so many doors, such unexpected places, she could not find her way.
是希尔伯里太太，正在寻找出口。因为时间已经很晚了！她嘟哝着，天越晚，在人们都告辞后，你就越能找到老朋友，在每一个寂静的角落，都有最动人的风景。他们知道吗，她思忖，他们知道自己住在一个迷人的花园里吗？灯火、树木，还有那闪着微光的湖泊与天空，多么神奇。不过是后花园里的几盏花灯罢了，克拉丽莎·达洛维如此说过！可希尔伯里太太是个魔术师呢！这里简直就是个公园…她不知道这些客人的名字，但她知道他们都是朋友，不知道姓名的朋友，不知道歌词的歌曲，总是最好的。但这里的门实在是太多了，简直是座神秘莫测的迷宫，她找不到出口啦。
“Yet,” said Sally, “when I heard Clarissa was giving a party, I felt I couldn’t NOT come — must see her again (and I’m staying in Victoria Street, practically next door). So I just came without an invitation. But,” she whispered, “tell me, do. Who is this?”
“然而，”萨利说，“当我听到克拉丽莎要办派对，我就觉得我非来不可——一定要再见她一面（我住在维多利亚大街，几乎就在她家隔壁嘛）。所以我就不请自来了。喔唷，”她低声说，“你一定要告诉我。那人是谁呀？”
She was rather, said Peter. Yet, said Sally, in her emotional way, with a rush of that enthusiasm which Peter used to love her for, yet dreaded a little now, so effusive she might become — how generous to her friends Clarissa was! and what a rare quality one found it, and how sometimes at night or on Christmas Day, when she counted up her blessings, she put that friendship first. They were young; that was it. Clarissa was pure-hearted; that was it. Peter would think her sentimental. So she was. For she had come to feel that it was the only thing worth saying — what one felt. Cleverness was silly. One must say simply what one felt.
她确实是的，彼德说。然而，萨利激动地说——彼德以前很喜欢萨利这副热情洋溢的样子，可现在却觉得有点害怕，害怕萨利变得过于情绪化——克拉丽莎对待朋友是多么慷慨啊！那是一种多么难能可贵的品质呀，有时候在晚上，亦或在圣诞节，萨利思量着自己是个多么幸运的人时，总会把克拉丽莎的友谊放在首位。她们当时多年轻啊，克拉丽莎又心地纯洁，就是这个缘故。彼德会认为，克拉丽莎太多愁善感了。她确实如此。因为，萨利终于认识到，唯有一个人的感觉，才值得一谈。不要聪明反被聪明误啊。我们应该老老实实地说出自己内心的感受。
“Oh, that is Ellie Henderson,” said Sally. Clarissa was really very hard on her. She was a cousin, very poor. Clarissa WAS hard on people.
“哦，那是埃利·亨德森。”萨利说，克拉丽莎对她实在是太刻薄了。她们还是表亲呢，尽管她人很穷。克拉丽莎对人真的是太刻薄了。
“Old Mrs. Hilbery,” said Peter; but who was that? that lady standing by the curtain all the evening, without speaking? He knew her face; connected her with Bourton. Surely she used to cut up underclothes at the large table in the window? Davidson, was that her name?
“希尔伯里老太太。”彼德说。但那人又是谁呢？那个整晚上都站在窗帘边上一言不发的女士。他认识这张脸，她和伯尔顿有关系。她一定是那个常在窗口的大桌子上剪裁内衣的女士吧？戴维森，大概叫这个名字吧？
“No, no, no!” said Peter (Sally should not have said that — she went too far). That good fellow — there he was at the end of the room, holding forth, the same as ever, dear old Richard. Who was he talking to? Sally asked, that very distinguished-looking man? Living in the wilds as she did, she had an insatiable curiosity to know who people were. But Peter did not know. He did not like his looks, he said, probably a Cabinet Minister. Of them all, Richard seemed to him the best, he said — the most disinterested.
“不对，不对，不对！”彼德否认说（萨利不该这么说的——她太过分了）。那个老好人——瞧他正待在房间的另一头，侃侃而谈，一如既往，依旧是那个亲爱的老理查德。他在和谁说话呢？萨利问，那个仪表堂堂的男人是谁呀？像她这种一直住在荒野里的人，总是有不知餍足的好奇心，总想结识陌生人。但彼德也不认识此人。他不喜欢此人的模样，他说，想必是个内阁大臣吧。在这些人中，他觉得理查德是最好的，他说——理查德最公正无私。
He had not found life simple, Peter said. His relations with Clarissa had not been simple. It had spoilt his life, he said. (They had been so intimate — he and Sally Seton, it was absurd not to say it.) One could not be in love twice, he said. And what could she say? Still, it is better to have loved (but he would think her sentimental — he used to be so sharp). He must come and stay with them in Manchester. That is all very true, he said. All very true. He would love to come and stay with them, directly he had done what he had to do in London.
他觉得生活不会简单，彼德说。他和克拉丽莎的关系就不简单。这毁了他的生活，他说（他们曾那么亲密无间——他和萨利·西顿，没有道理不承认呀）。一个人不能两次陷入爱河，他说。而她又能说些什么呢？不过，爱过总比从没爱过要好（但他会以为她太多愁善感——他过去老是那么尖刻的）。他一定要去曼彻斯特和他们住上一阵。就这么讲定了，他说。他非去不可。他很乐意去她家做客，等他在伦敦办完要办的事后，他会即刻就去的。
“But I do not know,” said Peter Walsh, “what I feel.”
“可我不知道，”彼德·沃尔什说，“自己有什么感受。”
Poor Peter, thought Sally. Why did not Clarissa come and talk to them? That was what he was longing for. She knew it. All the time he was thinking only of Clarissa, and was fidgeting with his knife.
可怜的彼德，萨利想。为什么克拉丽莎还不来和他们聊聊呢？他盼望着和她好好地聊上一聊，萨利知道的。他一门心思只想着克拉丽莎，所以他不停地耍弄他那把折刀。
And Clarissa had cared for him more than she had ever cared for Richard. Sally was positive of that.
与理查德比，克拉丽莎更喜欢他呢。萨利很肯定这一点。
“But what has he done?” Sally asked. Public work, she supposed. And were they happy together? Sally asked (she herself was extremely happy); for, she admitted, she knew nothing about them, only jumped to conclusions, as one does, for what can one know even of the people one lives with every day? she asked. Are we not all prisoners? She had read a wonderful play about a man who scratched on the wall of his cell, and she had felt that was true of life — one scratched on the wall. Despairing of human relationships (people were so difficult), she often went into her garden and got from her flowers a peace which men and women never gave her. But no; he did not like cabbages; he preferred human beings, Peter said. Indeed, the young are beautiful, Sally said, watching Elizabeth cross the room. How unlike Clarissa at her age! Could he make anything of her? She would not open her lips. Not much, not yet, Peter admitted. She was like a lily, Sally said, a lily by the side of a pool. But Peter did not agree that we know nothing. We know everything, he said; at least he did.
“可他做了些什么呢？”萨利问。她猜，也许是公益事业吧。他们在一起幸福吗？萨利又问（她自己可是幸福得要死），因为，她承认说，她对他们的婚姻生活一点不了解，只是瞎下结论而已，大家都这样，即使是那些每天和我们生活在一起的亲人，我们对他们又有多少了解呢？她问。我们难道不都像是囚徒吗？她曾读过一个很好的剧本，写一个人在牢房的墙上胡乱涂鸦，她感觉那就是生活的真相——每个人都在墙壁上胡乱涂鸦。她对人际关系失去了信心（人都是那么复杂），她常常跑到自家的花园里，在花花草草中寻找无论是男人还是女人都不能给她的平静。可是不，他可不喜欢卷心菜什么的，他更喜欢和人打交道，彼德说。诚然，青春是美丽的，萨利看着伊丽莎白穿过房间，说道。和少女时期的克拉丽莎简直相差十万八千里哦！彼德能搞懂这个小姑娘吗？她不会轻易说话的。了解不多，还不怎么了解，彼德承认说。她就像一朵百合，萨利说，一朵开在池塘边的百合。但彼德不同意她的说法：我们一无所知。不对，我们了解一切，他说，至少他了解的。
But these two, Sally whispered, these two coming now (and really she must go, if Clarissa did not come soon), this distinguished- looking man and his rather common-looking wife who had been talking to Richard — what could one know about people like that?
可这两个人，萨利低语道，现在正走来的这两个人（她真的要走了，如果克拉丽莎不快点过来的话），这个相貌堂堂的男人和他那个长相平庸的老婆，刚才就是这一对在和理查德说话——像这样的一对，你又能了解多少呢？
“That they’re damnable humbugs,” said Peter, looking at them casually. He made Sally laugh.
“他们是一对该死的伪君子。”彼德不经意地瞟了他们一眼，说道。他的话把萨利逗乐了。
When one was young, said Peter, one was too much excited to know people. Now that one was old, fifty-two to be precise (Sally was fifty-five, in body, she said, but her heart was like a girl’s of twenty); now that one was mature then, said Peter, one could watch, one could understand, and one did not lose the power of feeling, he said. No, that is true, said Sally. She felt more deeply, more passionately, every year. It increased, he said, alas, perhaps, but one should be glad of it — it went on increasing in his experience. There was some one in India. He would like to tell Sally about her. He would like Sally to know her. She was married, he said. She had two small children. They must all come to Manchester, said Sally — he must promise before they left.
在一个人年轻的时候，彼德说，总是容易激动，所以不能很好地去了解别人。现在他已经老了，确切地说是五十二岁了（我五十五岁了，萨利说，那只是表面上的年龄而已，她的内心还像个二十岁的姑娘家呢），现在他可说是真正成熟了，彼德说，他能够观察，能够理解，也不会丢失感情的力量。不错，确实如此，萨利说。年复一年，她觉得自己的感情变得越来越深沉，也越来越强烈了。喔唷，他说，也许会越来越强烈吧，不过我们应该为此高兴才是——按照他的经验，一个人的感情会随着年龄的增长而变得越来越强烈。他在印度认识了那么一个人。他很愿意和萨利谈谈她。他愿意让萨利了解这个女人。她是个有夫之妇，他说。她有两个孩子。你一定要叫他们来曼彻斯特玩哦，萨利说——在他们分手前，他必须答应她的这个提议。
But Sir William Bradshaw stopped at the door to look at a picture. He looked in the corner for the engraver’s name. His wife looked too. Sir William Bradshaw was so interested in art.
正在那时，威廉·布莱德肖爵士在门口停下了脚步，驻足观赏起一幅版画。他在画的角落里仔细寻找着雕刻师的签名。他的老婆也在看。威廉·布莱德肖爵士对艺术真有兴趣啊。
For her father had been looking at her, as he stood talking to the Bradshaws, and he had thought to himself, Who is that lovely girl? And suddenly he realised that it was his Elizabeth, and he had not recognised her, she looked so lovely in her pink frock! Elizabeth had felt him looking at her as she talked to Willie Titcomb. So she went to him and they stood together, now that the party was almost over, looking at the people going, and the rooms getting emptier and emptier, with things scattered on the floor. Even Ellie Henderson was going, nearly last of all, though no one had spoken to her, but she had wanted to see everything, to tell Edith. And Richard and Elizabeth were rather glad it was over, but Richard was proud of his daughter. And he had not meant to tell her, but he could not help telling her. He had looked at her, he said, and he had wondered, Who is that lovely girl? and it was his daughter! That did make her happy. But her poor dog was howling.
因为，她父亲在和布莱德肖夫妇说话时，还一个劲地瞅着她，还在心里琢磨着，这个可爱的姑娘是谁呀？然后，他突然意识到，那正是他的伊丽莎白，他刚才没有认出她来呢，她穿着条粉红色的裙子，看上去多美啊！伊丽莎白正在和威利·提特柯姆说话，感觉到了她老爸在瞧着她。于是她走过去，和他站在了一起。此时，派对已接近尾声，你瞧，人们纷纷离去了，房间里变得越来越空了，地板上凌乱地散落着各种杂物。连埃莉·亨德森都准备走了，她几乎是最后一个了，尽管一晚上没有人和她说过话，但她毕竟见识了这一切，这样她回去后，就有故事可以说给伊迪丝听了。派对就要结束了，理查德和伊丽莎白觉得很高兴，可理查德更为自己的女儿感到骄傲。他本不想告诉她自己刚才没有认出她，但他还是忍不住对她讲了。他刚才一直在看着她，他说，心里还寻思，这可爱的姑娘是哪家的呀？原来是他自己的女儿哦！他的这番话听得她心头美滋滋的。可是，她那条可怜的狗在吠叫着呢。
There’s Elizabeth, he said, she feels not half what we feel, not yet. But, said Sally, watching Elizabeth go to her father, one can see they are devoted to each other. She could feel it by the way Elizabeth went to her father.
伊丽莎白在那儿，他说，我们感受到的，她连一半都还没感受过呢，至少现在还没有。不过，萨利看着伊丽莎白向她的父亲走去，说道，能够看出他们父女情深哩。在伊丽莎白走向她父亲的步履中，萨利能够感觉到这一点。
For there she was.
因为她已来到了他的面前。
(THE END)
（完结）
“I will come,” said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement?
“我马上就去。”彼德说，可他依旧在那儿坐了一会儿。这份恐惧究竟是怎么回事？这份陶醉又是从何而来？他在心里思忖道，究竟是什么使我变得如此激动呢？
“Richard has improved. You are right,” said Sally. “I shall go and talk to him. I shall say goodnight. What does the brain matter,” said Lady Rosseter, getting up, “compared with the heart?”
“理查德进步不少，你说对了，”萨利说，“我要过去和他聊上几句，然后和他说再见。与心灵相比，”罗塞特夫人站起来，说道，“头脑有什么用呢？”
It is Clarissa, he said.
是因为克拉丽莎，他说。
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